Let Me Tell You These Stories
by J.L.Lunar
Summary: Different one-shots about Yu-Gi-Oh! characters. Warnings and Ratings vary between chapter. Mostly Thiefshipping, but there is also Deathshipping, Bronzeshipping, Angsthipping, Psychoshipping, Pastshipping, Citronshipping and Rogueshipping
1. Chapter 1: Marik Fucks Santa Claus

**"Marik Fucks Santa Claus"**

**Warning: Thiefshipping, mentionings of sex. This is not a dark one.**

**Rated: T**

Marik sighed, clutching at his pillows. Really, tonight had been a long night. His unenjoyable birthday had passed two days ago, and had left him in an awfully melancholic mood.

Remembering that stupid, half-assed party, he cringed inwardly. It was supposed to have just been him, Ishizu, and Odion…

-(-o-)-

"Marik!" Ishizu cried, flinging open the door and revealing a rather embarrassed and freezing cold Marik. The blonde just grunted in reply, hand stuffed listlessly into his warm pockets, mittens not doing enough to keep out the Ra-damned cold.

His sister paid no mind, though, and just stepped out of the way. For once, Ishizu was dressed in vibrant colors; her dress was a soft crimson, with white fur trimming the outside of it, and green reindeer stitched into the bottom. All in all, Marik thought it looked quite pathetic. Not that he'd ever dare tell Ishizu that.

"Odion! Marik has joined us!" Ishizu called back, hand cupping around her mouth. When her message had been sent, she turned a happy smile to Marik, teeth glimmering in the soft light.

"Well, go take a seat in the living room," Ishizu commanded, shooing him in farther into the house. Ishizu and Odion had moved to Domino City after Marik, choosing not to stay in Egypt so far away from their brother and 'master'. Marik had refused, of course, to live with them again. He was nineteen now, and he wanted to be a 'big boy'.

Of course, living on his own made things difficult. Finding a job, for one, seeing as he had no experience with pretty much… Well… Anything! On top of all that, he had bills to pay, groceries to buy. .. And oh yeah, fucking Bakura.

The damned spirit, apparently, had obtained his own body, along with the Pharaoh. He'd come back, it seemed, just to specifically target Marik, annoying the boy to fucking hell and back! But the strange thing was … Marik didn't mind it. In fact, whenever he'd see Bakura coming, he'd automatically try to straighten up the house, and try to press down his hair and make his clothes look a little bit more acceptable…

Not that Bakura would ever care, anyways. Or that Marik cared. Because he didn't. Nope.

Sighing, Marik cleared his head of such aggravating thoughts, and instead made his way into the living room of the Ishtars' home. It was a small, quaint room, with white, pristine furniture. Small trinkets from Egypt decorated the wall, along with a merry little fireplace. Vaguely, Marik felt something slightly akin to jealously. Who the fuck said they should get a fire place and not him?

Deciding he was being stupid and jealous, Marik instead focused on sitting down on the furniture, black clad legs crossing over one another as he removed his purple jacket and black scarf. Tossing them to the side, he noticed a small little Christmas tree. Smiling softly, he moved over towards it.

Marik didn't have one at his house. He only had one of the small, pathetic little ones he'd heard classified as 'Charlie Brown Christmas Trees'. Marik, of course, didn't know what that mean, but what the hell ever, right? No skin off his shin, was the saying, huh?

Flicking some blonde bangs from his face, and instead bent over, hands going to his knees, head stretching forward on his golden decorated neck. He felt the cold metal of his earrings smack his cheeks as he look closely at the glimmering lights. Red, green, and yellow of different shades shimmered all along the tree, giving different hues to the tinsel wrapped lovingly around each bow.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A deep voice growled behind him, and Marik bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming. Whirling around, he stared up into the crimson eyes of Yami no Bakura. Bakura was standing there, dressed in a black, button up shirt, red pin stripe designs going up and down it. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a small, white strip of flesh that flashed in and out of view. His blue jeans had been discarded in favor of form-fitting black pants, a dragon like design on the pockets.

"It's just a tree," Marik scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to hide the fact that he'd been staring. Bakura merely smirked, canines pressing against his lip as a pink tongue massaged the tip playfully.

"Who said I was talking about the tree?" Bakura questioned, grinning wider as he saw that he'd clearly baffled the usually quick-witted Marik.

"Bakura, you better be behaving!" Ryou called, appearing behind his yami, wearing a matching outfit, only in blue and white. Feeling a slight surge of jealousy, Marik watched as those soft, doe-brown eyes locked onto Bakura's crimson ones, obviously ordering obedience. Then the hikari was gone, off helping Ishizu with carrying food in.

"What… What're you two doing here, anyways?" Marik demanded, shooting venom into his voice as he glared crossly at the albino thief. Bakura just shrugged, a cocky grin etching its way over his pale features.

"We heard you were having a party, of course. Now, dear Marik, why would I ever miss that?" Bakura cackled, smacking Marik playfully on the shoulder. The blonde didn't deem that with a response, however, and just brushed past Bakura, hoping to go help Ishizu.

"Now, where are you going?" Bakura rumbled, and before Marik knew it two pale arms were wrapped around his waist, pulling him in close. Marik gasped as he collided with Bakura's waist.

"Fluffy!" Marik growled, "what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I believe this could be called flirting," Bakura mused, voice humming in Marik's ear. With a blush staining his tanned cheeks, Marik realized that he was actually enjoying this. Jerking away, Marik pointed towards the kitchen.

"Ishizu and Ryou need my help carrying plates," Marik lied, shooting for the door.

"Oh no," Bakura interrupted, grabbing Marik and pulling the boy back to the couch. "You're the birthday boy. You sit here with me, and we'll let the slaves do all the work." With a diabolical laugh, Bakura swung his legs onto Marik's lap, a cheeky grin running rampant across his face.

"Bitch, get your fat ass legs off of me, before you break my thigh bones," Marik grumbled, shoving Bakura's legs. The albino offered a playful pout, but blinked as Marik's legs found their way onto Bakura's lap.

"And by the way," Marik intoned, "you're my bitch. Get that straight."

Bakura let a silver eyebrow arch, but offered no complaint. In fact, by the dazed look in his eyes, Marik was quite concerned that Bakura was imagining things he ought not be.

He didn't let this bug him, though, and instead he focused on watching Ishizu, Odion and Ryou appear, carrying food and setting it on the living room table. Ishizu announced that they could eat, and both Bakura and Marik tore greedily into the food. Marik noted that Ishizu had made plates with meat…

Strange. Only Bakura was an avid meat eater, and some of these dishes seemed to cater specifically to his needs(i.e. Dripping blood)… But if Bakura was just a surprise visitor, how had Ishizu known to cook meat for a bunch of vegetarians.

Shoving the thoughts away (along with food into his mouth) Marik just figured he was examining things to in-depth.

When the meal was done, Ishizu decided it was time for presents. He opened it up, and split apart a card, staring at it with some confusion. Ishizu looked slightly offended for a moment, before finally posing the question, "What's wrong?"

Marik tilted his head. "Nothing, it's just that… Every year around Christmas, this fat old man in a red suit appears everywhere, and on everything!" Marik exclaimed, pointing towards the figure most commonly known as Santa Claus, or Saint Nick.

Ishizu bubbled nervously with laughter, before explaining the tale to Marik. Bakura and Ryou both looked disinterested, but Odion was listening, as was Marik. When the story came to a halt, Marik looked dubious, though.

"So some fat old man sneaks into childrens' homes at night, gets them to sit on his lap, and loves eating everybody else's cookies?" Ishizu gave a slow nod, not liking the tone of Marik's voice. "Bull fuckin shit."

"Marik Ishtar! Watch your mouth!" Ishizu growled, dark eyes narrowing. Marik's violet pupils rolled, paying her no heed. Instead, he looked to Bakura, who was looking at Marik intently.

And Marik was afraid to say the wheels in his brain were finally breaking out of their rusted positions, running full-force.

Marik had a baaaaaad feeling…

-(-o-)-

Which is why, on Christmas Eve, or Christmas morning, now, Marik was still awake, clearly nervous about this whole thing. He didn't know what Bakura was planning, but he didn't like the thought of it. Staring downwards, he realized he hadn't chosen the best pajamas for the possible need of flight.

Ryou, the sweet little hikari he was, had given Marik pajamas that consisted of a light green tank-top, with something called the Grinch on the front of them, and short shorts that didn't even go past Marik's thighs. Marik had worn them to get into the spirit of the holiday but… He really regretted it now.

Bang!

Flinching, Marik realized this must've been what he was waiting for. Was this what Bakura's brain had conducted, Marik shivered, before slowly rising out of bed. He growled at the uncomfortable feeling of wind at his newly revealed areas. His goose-flesh skin did not like the idea of sneaking around (barefoot) in his house at night.

He knew, however, that no sleep would come to him unless he investigated the source of all the commotion. Stumbling down the stairs, he reached his living room, pausing as he saw a shadow move and sit down in an arm chair.

Marik felt fury rise up inside of him. How dare this person come in here and just sit like this was his fucking house! And it was probably Bakura… Damned stupid ass spirit. Huffing angrily, Marik spotted his Millennium Rod. Snatching it up, he slowly made his way to the person in the chair. He could see red clothes and white hair.

Resisting the urge to snort, Marik lifted the Rod high above his head, and brought it down savagley atop the intruders head. He heard a groan, and the person flopped forward, clutching at their 'poor widdle head'

"How'd that feel, bitch?" Marik snapped, stomping around the chair and into the living room. "Why the hell're you in my house anyways?" Marik demanded, stopping finally in front of the slumped over person.

With a gasp, Marik finally thought about it. Someone was here. In his house. On Christmas. With a red suit on. Black boots. And white hair.

Marik screamed and dropped his Rod.

"FUCKING HELL I KILLED SANTA CLAUS!" Marik wailed, clutching at his hair. "FUCK Ishizu wasn't lying! Oh God! Maybe I can revive him…?" Marik dropped desperately to his knees, reaching out shaking hands to the person's voluminous suit. Clutching at the suit, he flipped the person over, just to stare into the face of a groggy Bakura.

"OW… Bloody hell, Marik," Bakura grumbled, lifting a pale hand to his head, nursing the growing bruise. Marik's jaw dropped as he stared, dumbfounded, at the Spirit of the Ring.

"Bakura I… I . . I don't . ." Marik spluttered, before finally opting to just shut his mouth and stare. Bakura rolled his eyes, and leaned in towards Marik.

"So, Ishtar, I thought I'd do something… Special for your birthday," Bakura offered a wicked grin, the dim lighting making his face seem even more demonic. Marik was suddenly hyper-aware of his revealing clothing, and really hated his outfit choice for the night.

"Glad Ryou went with the gift I suggested," Bakura mumbled, shifting slightly, making Marik even more confused. He watched Bakura stand and flop down onto the chair.

"So, Marik… Have you been a good, or…Naughty?" Bakura's voice purred, grabbing Marik's hand and hauling him up into Bakura's lap. Marik squeaked in surprise as he sprawled unceremoniously into the albino's lap.

"E-Excuse me?" Marik squeaked, feeling a bulge that belonged to Bakura beneath him. Eyes widening in surprise, Marik looked questioningly at Bakura.

The albino rolled his eyes. "Dammit, I was trying to make our first time special, Marik. I planned that party, chose all those presents, and this is how you repay me?"

Marik's mind literally blanked as he stared at the exasperated Spirit. His mind couldn't possibly tolerate this blow. Slowly, eyelids closed, then reopened, before finally tilting his head.

"You… You planned…?" Marik asked, all bravado lost as he stared into Bakura's garnet gaze. The albino's fluffy head nodded, grin falling as he stared up at Marik.

"Honestly, you're pretty dumb for such a smart, evil little bitch, Marik," Bakura responded, lifting a gloved hand to Marik's cheek. Marik just scowled, and let out a squeak as Bakura pulled him in, melding their lips together. Marik gasped in surprise, and felt Bakura's tongue shooting into his mouth. Moaning slightly, Marik molded their bodies together, chests touching as Marik wound his fingers into Bakura's hair, pulling them even closer as he felt Bakura's hands around the back of his neck.

Well… Marik figured maybe this was why he tried so hard for the spirit. Because Gods yes, there was no denying it any more, was there… Marik liked the Spirit of the Ring, and apparently, the feelings were mutual.

Suddenly, though, Marik was shoved off of Bakura's lap, and he sprawled out on the floor, a panting, blushing, confused mess. With slightly swollen lips, he looked confusedly up at Bakura.

"So I asked you, Ishtar… Have you been naughty… Or nice?"

-(-o-)-

Marik lay, completely naked, in Bakura's arms. Bakura was in the same, disheveled state that Marik was in, though, as they pressed against each other. They'd started off downstairs, yes, but somehow Marik had been "tricked" into acting like reindeer as Bakura pretended to ride him up the stairs to the bedroom …

In all honesty, Marik wasn't even sure anymore. Chuckling, he imagined Bakura as a cowboy, and a horse-Marik, with a blonde fringe and a bad ass attitude, always knocking its rider off and kicking him in the nuts.

"What's so funny?" Bakura drawled, running a hand lazily through Marik's blonde hair.

"Oh, nothin', partner," Marik rumbled in a Southern accent.

Bakura's brow furrowed, but decided it was best not to ask.

-(-o-)-

**Decided to take LadySunami's advice, so get ready for the SPAM. xD**

**This'll just be (For now) the transfering of stories from my Tumblr to here, and I'll eventually add 'new' things from there. . .**


	2. Chapter 2: Nightmare

**"Nightmare"**

**Characters: Ryou Bakura, Amane Bakura, and Yami Marik**

**Rated: High T**

**Warning: Deformation of a child.**

Ryou opened his eyes just to see Amane sitting there, curled up, clutching at the tattered remains of her dress. Sobs racked her body as she kept her back to him. Moving forwards, Ryou wondered what could possibly be wrong with her.

"Amane?" Ryou questioned, fear showing slowly on his face. Amane ceased her sobbing, and her hands dropped to the ground. She still wouldn't turn to face him, and that bothered Ryou. He'd been quite close to Amane. Why was she hiding from him?

"Big brother, you left me," Amane croaked. "Why didn't you die with me?" Ryou felt a shudder run through his body, and he opened his mouth, trying to come up with some justification to set the dead girl's mind at ease.

"I… It wasn't my time," Ryou said weakly, voice sounded pathetic, even in his own ears. Amane's head bobbed, though, silver hair furling around her back, turning up at the ends as it hit resistance in the form of a solid body.

"But… I could make it your time," Amane whispered, slowly turning around. Ryou focused on the scuff of her heels, before finally lifting a wary gaze up to her. With a shriek, he stared into vacant pits, where Amane's eyes should've been. Maggots wiggled where her pupils should've been, screeching laughter coming from their non-existent mouths.

Her mouth opened into a grin, revealing rotting gums, teeth falling from them in rapid-fire procession, all bouncing downwards to clutter the area around her feet. Gulping, Ryou saw dried, disgusting blood flecking from the teeth, scraping off the molars into rusty flakes.

The smell of decay was strong, and Ryou watched as Amane's tongue wrenched itself from her mouth, waggling in the air just long enough to split in half, giving Ryou a view of the tongue's spongy innards. Gagging, he reeled back away from the detached muscle.

Amane was talking, but without her tongue, it was all garbled noises. Sliding forward, her hands shot out in front of her, both bending at awkward angles. The right arm snapped to the side, bending at the elbow, before thrusting the bone through skin, sending thousands of bugs pouring out of her skin. Laughter garbled from her mouth as she watched Ryou get sicker and sicker from this display.

Snapping her left arm to her mouth, Amane grinned and began ripping her fingernails from skin, leaving behind blood and strings of flesh, still desperately searching for the nails that should've been attached to them.

Giggling maniacly, Amane dropped to her knees, feet no longer of use as they curled inwards, toes touching her shin. Dragging her self forward like a worm, Amane reached out a bloodied hand, grabbing for Ryou's pants leg.

Screaming, Ryou reeled away, looking for a form of escape. Suddenly, however, he was no longer located in a spacious room, he was in a closet with his back against the wall, his nightmare of a sister drawing ever closer …

-(-o-)-

Yami Marik stood over Ryou, staring down at the boy with a greedy expression in his eyes. Watching those chocolate brown eyes fill with moisture … Watching Ryou's face twist up in horror… Yami Marik let out a low growl of pleasure, enjoying the writhing of the boy.

Fiddling with the Millennium Rod, Yami Marik projected even more shadow magic into the already frightened boy's dreams.

He wanted to see just how loud this little bunny could scream…


	3. Chapter 3: Marik's Bunny Problems

**"Marik's Bunny Problems"**

**Characters: Marik Ishtar and Yami Marik**

**Warning: Mutation of innocent creatures**

**Rated: T**

Marik liked bunnies.

Of course, he'd never tell anybody this. Ever. He was a badass criminal, who didn't cringe in fear from the mighty Bakura, and he definitely wouldn't crouch down and stroke a bunny's ears, reveling at the velvety softness that rimmed it. Enjoying the soft, pink nose plunging into a warm hand, whiskers twitching along the skin, small snuffles leaving just a hint of snot, but not enough for you to be disgusted…

No. Certainly not Marik Ishtar.

Glaring at nothing in particular, Marik lay back in his bed. He knew, for sure, that he could never ever ever tell anybody about his affinity towards the soft, fluffy, adorable little creatures. Especially not Bakura.

But Marik forgot his main enemy. The one inside his head.

As Marik slipped into the dream world, he didn't notice the giant shadow looming over him, eye glowing where a forehead should've been present. A glimmer of gold appeared clasped where the fist was, but other then that showed nothing other then a vague outline of what could've been the Millennium Rod.

Marik 'awoke' in his dream-land, and realized that he was in a meadow. Frowning, he stood up from the grass ,watching each blade bend and sway in its own rhythmic dance, coaxing the wind to play its melodic tunes.

And there was a fucking bunny.

Marik scowled at the small creature, glaring holes into its furry hide, willing it to just incinerate on the spot. When it did no such thing, Marik remembered that he was in a dream, and a grin worked its way across his face. Nobody would ever even know that he indulged himself in such away!

Scooting forward, Marik dropped to his knees and made small, clicking noises, the pads of his fingers brushing against one another, motioning the small little bunny forwards.

It did as told, the small, albino figure hopping ever closer, nose snuffling in a serious manner as it regarded Marik with what could almost be considered a disdainful manner. Unpleasantly, Marik was reminded of his 'partner in crime', Bakura.

Flicking those thoughts from his mind like annoying droplets of water, he lifted up a cautious hand and placed it atop the bunny's head. It allowed him to pet him, nuzzling in an affectionate way at Marik. Okay, Marik had been wrong. Nothing-at-all like Bakura.

A low rumbling started, from the ground, and Marik stood up, quite puzzled. What was disrupting his dream? Especially such a nice dream. Looking around, he realized that something was slinking from the shadows.

The smaller bunny beside him let out a squeal, and the thing within in the shadows shot out, a green and red blur, crashing hard into the bunny beside Marik. The blonde let out a strangled cry, and realized that the thing, whatever it was, was roughly the size of a fawn.

Its head lifted up, and Marik gulped, seeing that the albino bunny's intestines were hanging from long, ivory tusks, dyed red at the tips. Marik could hear the crunch of bones, erupting from the creature's overly large mouth…

The creature looked like a mutated bunny. It was, as mentioned prior, the size of a fawn, but hunched over, back awkward and crooked. The spine was bent and twisted, in a way that was visible each time it moved even an inch. Skin would gather and bunch, sometimes trapping itself within the massive kinks of the spine, or it would just appear as a bunch of grotesque tumors erupting spontaneously across the creature's back.

Its fur was a matted, disgusting, vomit colored green, blood caked onto the tips of it. The way it looked, the fur was so disgusting that it had hardened, forming into miniature spikes all across the creature's body.

Fangs protruded from its mouth, red eyes gleaming as they studied Marik. Its large, gaping maw opened, a long forked tongue slithering out, swiping along the edges of its purple gums, shoving out bits and pieces of the smaller bunny.

"So," the mutant asked in a deep, growling voice, "do you still like bunnies?"

-(-o-)-

Marik sat bolt up right in his bed, gasping and clutching at his chest, sweat pouring off of his body. With wide, frightened eyes, he turned shakily to see the shadow of his Yami disappearing back within his body.

Shuddering, Marik couldn't even bring himself to be mad at his Yami. He guessed, in his own, warped way, Yami Marik had been helping…

After all, Marik really didn't like bunnies anymore.


	4. Chapter 4: All For You

**"All For You"**

**Characters: Yami Marik, Marik Ishtar, and Yami Bakura**

**Warning: One-sided Bronzeshipping, and Thiefshipping**

**Rated: T for mentions of sex**

All those years ago. . . I did it for you. You created me, and you loved me, once upon a time. I don't know what happened, or why and when it changed, but soon I didn't matter. We used to talk all the time, and I used to always be beside you, even when you were whipped. Ignored. Shunned.

It was me that was there! I was always there, offering a hug, promising you I'd make it better. You didn't believe me, but you loved me all the same. Then that day finally came, and I murdered your father. Well, our father, really.

You were scared and ashamed, I could tell. But you didn't know it was me that had set you free, and you were filled with even more anger then before. Ah, Marik, you silly little thing. And yet I was there through it all, as you traversed the world.

Finally you found the Pharaoh, and yet again I was there. We traveled the ocean together, on that boat all alone. I was still there, talking to you, trying to persuade you to not go through with this.

But you ignored me. Well, almost. I managed to persuade you to send your minions instead of direct confrontation.

That plan failed, and then there truly was no getting you to stop. You were as angry as possible; angry as I've ever seen you. And it was directed at me!

For once in my life, you directed your anger to me. In all my six years of existence, I had never heard of such a thing. How could you hate me? Your savior? Your protector. It was at that time that I receded into the darker parts of your mind, entertaining myself with mercilessly killing anything within the Shadows.

And that was why I didn't notice him.

Yami Bakura, or, as you began calling him, Bakura. Since I was not present at the front-most part of your mind, I missed the small little interactions you held with the Spirit of the Ring. I didn't notice the haze that enveloped your mind when you were around him; I didn't notice that you were visiting him more then you should've.

No, no. So that's why it was a surprise when I finally did erupt from the shadows. I saw you, my hikari, the only person I'd ever cared about. . . And you were having sex with Bakura. Actually, I may be young in years, but I knew that it wasn't sex That was 'making love', as I'd seen you read in books.

This was that passionate exchange between two people. Well, I knew it was for you. I can-not speak for Bakura, of course, since my Shadows do not breach his mind. It was safe to assume, though, that my small, darkened, black heart, was completely destroyed. You, my little hikari, were the one thing keeping me sane.

So I lost it.

That was why, later on, in your moment of weakness, I took control of your body. My rightful vessel. I figured you owed me this much, at least. I also assumed that, as I fought the Pharaoh FOR YOU that perhaps our feelings could be re-kindled.

But no. You ran to Bakura.

So I lost it again, and then I wanted to kill them all. I couldn't care less about your feelings or your revenge. This was for me, and to show you how badly you had messed up.

But I'm a villain, and things didn't quite work that way. I was defeated, and you assisted them, then pledged to help them from then.

However, I know now, you're a liar, hikari. You always were. You spend your time around the Pharaoh as the perfect picture of ignorance, but at night, you go to Bakura, spending all your time with him.

And that brings my thoughts to the present. I'm sitting as a mere shadow, a shell of my former self, on a branch outside the small house that belongs to the little one they call Ryou Bakura. Another hikari that means nothing to me, and who I would want to kill.

But first would come his yami, who you're currently touching. He's practically in your lap, and your mouths are moving. I don't hear the words, because I don't want to. Oh little hikari, I don't think you realized how much you hurt me.

Bakura, that foul scum, gets to touch you and be real, holding you in his arms. But not me. Oh no, not Yami Marik. No, I'm shoved to the side, only a shadow that's allowed to watch as you slowly rip up everything that was ever nice about me.

Not that it was much. . . But it was enough, and it was all centered around you.

So it's here in this tree I watch, and thinking that mabye if I had a body I'd cry. I'd cry as I watch you stradle him. Cry as I watch you kiss him. Cry as I watch him wrap his legs around your waist, and you show him how much of a man you are.

Then the moments over, and you two cuddle and fall asleep, pulling me back into the recesses of your mind so I don't have to watch this painful display anymore.

And I'm pretty sure, as I sit in the shadows, my thoughts all of you, that I'd cry more, too.


	5. Chapter 5: Fisted Heart

**Fisted Heart**

**Rated: VERY HIGH T**

**Warning: GORE and murder of a child. If that offends you, do not read this chapter. Also, this is not Bronzeshipping in any way shape or form.**

_ I'm alone. . ._

"But I'm here, and it's all right," a deep voice purred in his ear, and Marik slowly lifted his head, tear-stains evident on his cheeks as he choked back a few sobs. Clutching frantically at his hair, Marik rolled a tongue over his lips, and gazed at the shadow towering over him.

"Do you love me?" Marik pleaded, voice breaking an octave out of pure desperation. His back was in searing pain from the hot knife that had just cut through his skin, and he was in need of someone. . . Anyone. . . To tell him that he was loved. That they were't going to hurt him anymore.

"Of _course_ I love you," the voice cackled, and Marik could see the glistening whites of teeth appearing within the shadows. "But I need you to name me. . . And then call my name five times."

"I. . . Name you?" Marik mumbled, gnawing on his lip. "I. . . I'll name you Mariku, cuz it sounds like me. . . . I like my name," he confided, bobbing his blonde head as he stared fretfully up at the shadow. For a moment he waited, wondering if the shadow would reject the name.

"Go on," the shadow purred instead, long tendrils that could've been arms spreading out in a mock-hug motion. Marik shivered slightly, before nodding once more, his head ducking occasionally as he stuttered out the name.

"Mariku," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"Mariku," he whispered, and heard a sharp inhalation of breath.

"Mariku," he whispered, a small humming noise forming.

"Mariku," he whispered, and a high pitched laughter stung his ears.

"Mariku," he whispered the final time, and opened his eyes.

A boy stood before him, resembling Marik in everyway, apart from his spiked hair and the bulging veins all across his face. Slithering out an overly long tongue, the boy-Mariku-grinned down at Marik, before letting out a harsh cackle.

"Mariku?" Marik whimpered, shuffling his feet. "You'll love me now, right?"

A grin stretched Mariku's face in an unnatural way, teeth bared against one another as he chuckled down at his smaller self. With a slow nod, Mariku's arms spread out a little, and Marik tilted his head, not quite understanding Mariku's actions.

"Come and hug me, Marik," Mariku rumbled, voice deep and seductive. Marik found himself blinking hazily, before stumbling forward just a step. Lifting a hand up, he placed his hand on Mariku's chest, giving a shaky smile up to his newly found companion.

"I'm glad someone will finally love me," Marik gurgled, shaking some of his blonde hair away from his face. Mariku cackled, and his arms closed around Marik's waist, pressing the other boy flush against him. Marik let his head thump against Mariku's chest, and smiled at the warmth of a friend.

"I'm glad I found someone so stupid," Mariku murmurred into his ear, and Marik froze, not quite understanding his friend's words. Pulling back ever so slightly, he was surprised to see a fist coming at his face. Flinching back, Marik was even more surprised when the hand latched onto Marik's chin, forcing his mouth open.

Marik struggled in his grasp, trying to get away, but he felt Mariku's other hand forcing its way into his mouth. With a tortured scream, he felt his teeth being ripped from their gums, blood pooling in his mouth as he strangled on it.

Unbearable pain shot through every nerve in his body as he felt the hand forcing its way farther back, hitting the back of his throat and causing Marik to heave. Mariku didn't release him, however, and just continued to shove his fist down Marik's throat.

The smaller blonde attempted to struggle more as his throat constircted around Mariku's fist. Slowly, Marik felt his life ebbing away, and with a final, broken sob, he died. But of course the Gods wouldn't let him go from there. Or, to better put it, Mariku wouldn't let him go.

Marik could feel opressive shadow magic chaining his soul in place, and Marik could do nothing but watch as Mariku went elbow deep into his corpse's throat.

With a low, feral growl and a grin, Mariku punched forward, and Marik heard a disgusting snap, and saw his body's neck loll back, blonde head thumping against his shoulders. Mariku made an irritated noise as his arm was carried with the movement.

Marik could see from the tendons moving in Mariku's arms that the shadow-boy was crooking his fingers, gripping onto something that Marik couldn't see. Despite himself, he felt curiosity that was soon sated. With a low, fearl snarl, Mariku jerked his arm back, and Marik watched as his head was slung from his shoulders, blood splurting every which way.

Screaming, Marik saw his spine seperate from his neck, and could even see the small white links dangling from his cranium. He could see that Mariku's hand was still submerged within what should've been the throat, and Marik saw that it had been Marik's spine that Mariku had grabbed.

Mariku released the spine, and instead focused on retrieving his arm from Marik's head. Reaching up, Mariku grabbed Marik's jaw. Marik watched in horror as the fiend pulled viciously at the jaw, causing Marik's head to split. Marik knew, had he been alive, he would've thrown up as he saw his jaw seperate from there rest of his head and go flying off to the corner in a shower of blood.

Mariku cackled maniacly, before dropping the remaining half of Marik's head. It landed with a sickening, wet thump upon the ground. Stepping over it, Mariku returned to Marik's body, which was still pumping blood from the stump that had once been its neck.

Blood spread down Marik's body, and covered him so thoroughly that the color he had once worn was no longer visible. Mariku kept his body aloft, though, and put a hand to Marik's small chest. With another throaty laugh, he reared his hand back and hooked his fingers into claws.

Mariku offered a bloody smirk to Marik, before lurching his hand forwards, finger-nails puncturing skin in even more spouts of blood. Twisting his fingers, Mariku gripped a rib, tugging at it harshly and dragging it out of its natural place. Marik gagged as he saw several other ribs be dragged outwards, glistening pearly white.

When the body's chest had been completely opened, Mariku reached in and wrapped his fingers around the lump called a heart. He pulled it from its place, snapping a few veins in the process and causing a few more minor blood-spouts.

Lifting Marik's heart up to his mouth, Mariku bit into it, blood squelching out from between his teeth as he lapped hungrily at the underside of it with his tongue. Marik began to cry as he watched his heart be devoured by the beast he'd thought was his friend.

"Never believe in love, silly Marik," Mariku chuckled as he ripped a bite from the heart.

"Because I'm love, and I'll always rip your heart out."

-(-o-)-

**What is this, I don't even-**

**Okay, I'll come back and edit this later, cuz it's probably got problems out the ASS right now. (if it's confusing, it takes place right after the tomb-keeper initiation, when Marik first creates Yami Marik.)**

**Back-story behind this? I was watching Candyman. I must say, that movie scared me shitless when I was little. Now that I'm older, I was like "What the FUUU- show me blood!"**

**However, I actually have a fear of bathrooms, and that movie just worsens it. Oh-ho-ho~.**

**Either way, review please! Reviews make me very happy! =D**

**(By the way, yes this is incredibly inaccurate on how a person would die. xD)  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6: Smex it Up

**Smex It Up**

**Rated: HIIIIGH T**

**Warnings: Mentions of sexy-time. Deathshipping. Seperate bodies. Seme!Ryou. . .**

**Characters: Ryou Bakura, Yami Marik, and mentions of Yami Bakura**

"Ryou?" Mariku's voice sounded from the couch, and Ryou placed his mug of hot chocolate down, and asked the inevitable question of 'what' that for some reason never had a very good answer when one was dealing with the yami.

"Well, I was just wondering what those people are doing," Mariku said, and held a paper-back book aloft, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he waggled it in Ryou's direction. The whittete sighed and got to his feet, walking over to examine the book.

Wrapping his thin fingers around it, he pulled it from Mariku's grasp, and looked at the page that Mariku was questioning about. Ryou felt his face heating up as he looked at the page, seeing that a man and a woman appeared to be having passionate sex in the picture.

"M-Mariku. . . Where. . . Where did you get this?" Ryou questioned timidly, walking around the couch to sit on the arm of it. The blonde haired yami tilted his head, tongue prodding at his lips, before he answered.

"Well, I got it out of your room, Ryou," Mariku intoned, crossing his arms over his chest. "So I figured you _must _know what was going on in there." Ryou immediatly took his lip into his mouth, chewing at it as he stared at the cover. No doubt it was probably Bakura's. Whenever the Spirit bought things he didn't want people to see, he'd just stash them in Ryou's room.

Of course, it was pretty full-proof. Nobody ever suspected Ryou of anything, and they certainly didn't go poking about in his belongings. So yes, it made sense, but it didn't make Ryou truly feel any better about the whole ordeal. What if someone who wasn't so ignorant had stumbled across that?-!

"Ryou?" Mariku growled. "It's best not to keep me waiting."

"Sorry," Ryou mumbled, setting the book down on the table. "Well, Mariku. . . They're, well, they're having sex in that book. You see, that is a pornography." Ryou felt awkward as he tried to tell the confused yami this.

"Pornography. . ." Mariku said slowly, trying to get used to the word. "Well, Ryou, they looked like they were having fun. We should do this sex!" Mariku hopped to his feet, and Ryou felt his face heating up even more.

"You don't just. . . Do it!" Ryou squeaked. "I mean. . . Mariku, we've been dating for a year, but. . . You don't even know how, do you?" It dawned on Ryou then. This was why Mariku wasn't a pervert like Bakura! Ryou had just went and assumed that all the evil yamis would be interested in sex of all kinds, but there was a difference.

Bakura had been alive at one point, and had experienced all of these things. Hell, he'd probably been taking over his hosts' bodies for a very long time, high-jacking them to go off and do as he pleased.

But Mariku was different. Mariku had never had his own body before until now. He'd never experienced sex, or the media, or anything that could lead him to knowing what sexual intercourse was. Marik probably hadn't had the talk with his own family, so Mariku had probably never heard _anything_ about it.

Sighing, Ryou ran a hand through his hair, chewing at the inside of his cheek.

"So . . . Sex is bad?" Mariku questioned, tilting his head.

"Yes!" Ryou agreed quickly, hoping to deter the wild-haired yami.

"Then good. We shall have sex and be bad together," Mariku smirked, folding his arms over his chest. "But you will have to show me how, Ryou." The yami stared down at Ryou, who was still blushing fiercly.

"Mariku. . . I. . ."

"Show me, bunny!" Mariku commanded, fisting a hand in the little hikari's hair. With a sharp cry, Ryou wriggled in Mariku's grasp until the blonde finally released him. Taking one last look at the book, Mariku grabbed Ryou's hand and led the smaller boy back into his bedroom. Throwing Ryou onto the bed, he clambered on himself, then sat expectantly, waiting for Ryou.

The whittete stared dumbly at his companion, before fidgeting with his hair. "Mariku. We can't have sex. We're two boys and we don't have the proper. . . Er. . . Things to take place in such. . . Um. . . Activities. . ."

"What do we need, then?" Mariku drawled, kicking his shoes off and looking at Ryou like a child at the fair. Ryou giggled, and wondered what it would be like if he suddenly pulled a funnel-cake out from behind his back, and promised Mariku a ride.

"We need a type of um. . . Lotion, or lube, or. . . Whatever," Ryou mumbled, the situation coming back 'round to hit him full frontal in the face. He liked Mariku, and almost loved the psychotic yami, but. . . This whole thing was incredibly embarrasing and-

"Like this?" Mariku questioned, a bottle of lube clasped in his hand as he shook it before Ryou's face. The whittete felt his face heating up, and wondered where the hell the yami got that. "It was on the floor," Mariku smirked, almost as if he'd red Ryou's mind. "It has Bakura's name written on it, but I don't think he'll mind."

With a triumphant grin, Mariku tossed the bottle to Ryou, who caught it merely out of reflex. As soon as he relized he'd touched the bottle-_Bakura's_ bottle-he let out a frightened squeak and dropped it onto the comforter. He stared at it for a moment, before a movement off to the side captured his attention.

He screeched as he saw a naked Mariku staring back at him. Covering his face with his hands, Ryou muttered prayers from several different religions underneath his breath. He felt Mairku's hands gripping his own, though, and pulling them away. Then the dark blue eyes were peering up at Ryou, a devilish glint in their depths.

"Time for bunny to get naked too!" Mariku cackled, and before Ryou could even register what was happening, his clothes were torn from his body and scattered on the floor. Mariku studied the lube, before passing it to Ryou.

"Put it where it's supposed to go, then," Mariku smirked, "and let the games begin."

Whimpering slightly, Ryou obliged.

-(-o-)-

Pulling out of Mariku, Ryou flopped onto his back, panting as he brushed his sweaty hair away from his fore-head. Beside him, he could hear Mariku humming a happy song. Ryou vaguely heard the bed creak as Mariku poked Ryou roughly in the ribs.

"What is it?" Ryou asked in a sleepy voice, his chocolate eyes watching the yami before him.

"Ryou. . . You never stopped to think, did you? Bakura doesn't read porn. And even if he did, he wouldn't read straight porn. Did you also stop to notice that if Bakura had left lube in here, my hikari's jewlrey would've been scattered about as well? One final thing Ryou. . . I lived in Marik's body. Whenever he discovered sex, so did I."

"Wait. . . What're you saying?" Ryou asked, shock coursing through his body as he glared accusingly up at Mariku.

"I'm saying that I know what sex is." Mariku shrugged, then dropped his mouth down to Ryou's ear, nipping and suckling at the skin there.

"I just wanted you inside of me."

-(-o-)-

**Since last time I gored it up, this time I'll smex it **

**I don't really like this. :/ By the way! If you want a shipping in here, tell me~. I can attempt to write anything. But sometimes you get stupid stuff like this. LOL.**

**Either way, I read a story where Ryou topped, and I was kinda like. . ."Huh?" But then I figgered Mariku would probably like the penetration part of it. . .**

**Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7: Prove It

**Prove It**

**Warnings: Gore, foul language, the excessive use of the word 'balls' one-sided Angstshipping, and Thiefshipping**

**Characters: Ryou Bakura, Marik Ishtar, Yugi Moto, and Yami Bakura**

**Rated: HIGH T**

-(-o-)-

Ryou Bakura stood nervously outside of a simple white house. It wasn't anything special, but that was fine, since Ryou was here for the person residing within the house-hold's wall. Yes, this was the Ishtar family's home in Domino City.

For about a year, Ryou had been keeping company with the youngest Ishtar member, Marik. The blonde haired tomb-keeper had appeared to Ryou one day, thinking that he was Bakura. After that, however, Ryou blacked out, and awoke in the Ishtar's home, Marik sitting there when he awoke, a big smile on his face.

It was then that Ryou and Marik's friendship began. He couldn't believe that this had been the same villainous boy from back in Battle City. It was truly mind-boggling! But Ryou learned not to stress over those things, and instead focused on all his wonderful times with his new friend.

Unlike Yugi and the others, Marik never left Ryou. The blonde also never excluded him, or treated him like he was bad news, just because of his yami. After all, as far as Ryou knew, Yami Bakura had long ago disappeared- and good riddance too. Now all that remained of Bakura were occasional black-outs that Ryou experienced.

Marik, however, was always there to lend a hand and take Ryou home, or possibly allow him to stay at the Ishtar's house. Ryou smiled warmly at the memories, and began fiddling with his hair, the gravity of the situation coming back to him.

For he was here to confess his attraction to Marik.

Lifting up a shaking hand, Ryou knocked softly on the door. He could feel the pressure on his knuckles, and quickly lowered his hand to rest beside his hip. Shifting his feet a little, Ryou let his eyes nervously scan the wood-work of the door, until finally Marik opened the door.

He was wearing a black t-shirt that fit nicely against his body, along with leather pants and boots. The blonde cocked a matching eyebrow, and propped a forearm against the frame of his door, studying Ryou with critical lavender eyes.

"Yes, Ryou?" Marik questioned.

"Oh well. . . You see, " Ryou stammered, tugging at his hair. Dammit! He was nineteen years old! He should be able to confess his love to somebody without stammering like a school-girl! Truly, this was embarrassing.

Marik waited patiently though, and fiddled with some of his golden jewelry, eyes flickering every once in a while to the stuttering whittete before him. Ryou gathered up his nerves, though, and set his jaw, staring defiantly up at Marik.

"Marik, I love you, and I think I'd like it very much if you liked me back. . .If you want too, of course. You don't have to, but seeing as I like you, I'd like for you to like me but-"

"Ryou," Marik muttered, "you're rambling."

"Ah, yes," Ryou laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Yes it appears I am." Lowering his umber gaze, Ryou hid behind his snowy white bangs, awaiting Marik's verdict. It seemed like one wasn't forth-coming, however, and Ryou began to distress.

"All right then, Ryou," Marik said, a grin taking over his features. "Prove it to me."

Ryou froze, eyes widening in surprise. "Prove. . . Prove what to you?"

"Prove your love to me," Marik explained in a slow, drawn out voice. Ryou's lip trembled slightly, and he felt as if he'd been struck a harsh, below-the-belt blow. His love couldn't be reciprocated without some materialistic item? Was that it?

"Do me. . . One tiny little favor," Marik said, leaning forward in an almost imperceptible way. "Kill Yugi Moto."

Ryou jerked away, eyes widening in fear and surprise. He'd been expecting to be asked for a watch, flowers, chocolates. . . Anything like that! But murder. . ? Ryou wasn't really capable of that! How could Marik ask this of him?

"I. . . Marik, I can't! Yugi's. . . I just-"

Marik let out a derisive snort and folded his arms across his chest. "Of course. I always knew it was your yami I liked best. At least he had balls. You're just some pussy ass little bitch." Tanned lids closed over his eyes, and a tsking noise came from the Egyptian's mouth. "I guess Bakura really was the only good part about you."

"Shut up!" Ryou shrieked before Marik could go on. "I am me! Bakura was _nothing_ without me! If not for me, he'd never have even had a body! Without me, he was just a useless Spirit trapped inside some stupid gold trinket! And I have got balls!" Ryou cried. "Two of them! And they're perfectly normal with semen floating in them! They're not lop-sided or to small or to big and they're white and-"

"Ryou," Marik cut across, "you're rambling again."

Ryou took in a few shuddering gasps, and stopped speaking. He felt his face burning in shame as he realized he'd just tried to give a descriptions of his man-bits to his best friend and possible lover.

Said friend was leaning forward, however, and pressing his lips to the shell of Ryou's ear. The whittete shuddered, and he felt a thigh sliding between his legs, a knee pressing sensually against a certain. . ._area_. He released a breathy moan, and felt Marik chuckling darkly in his ear.

"All right then, Ryou. . . Prove to me that you have such nice balls," Marik mumbled into his ear, knee rubbing in nice, slow circles. Ryou felt all his will-power crumbling. "If you do this little job for me," the Egyptian purred, "I might even play with those balls."

Ryou sagged against Marik's body, his mind being plagued by images and fantasies. He felt hands gripping at his waist, though, and Marik pushed him away, pulling back his own knee. Purple eyes leveled out with brown, and Marik let his lips linger tantalizingly close to Ryou's.

"C'mon Ryou. . . I'm not asking for much. You can do two things that the great Bakura hasn't," Marik whispered, eyes narrowed playfully as he watched Ryou's reaction. The whittete seemed befuddled for a moment, before he pieced together what Marik had said.

He'd do the _two things_ Bakura had never managed to get hold of. He was still apprehensive about one of these things, since it involved murder. But seeing as the latter one involved a naked Marik, he would happily agree.

"I'll do it. . ." Ryou murmured, nodding his head in an absent way.

"Perfect."

-(-o-)-

"Hi, Yugi!" Ryou smiled happily at his star-haired friend.

"Hi, Ryou," Yugi greeted, slightly surprised to see the whittete. He rarely visited. Actually, scratch that, he never visited. It'd been a good solid year or so since Yugi had last spoken with the brown-eyed hikari. Last he'd heard, Ryou had been keeping company with Marik.

"Mind if I pop in?" Ryou asked. Yugi frowned, but nodded. Ryou seemed slightly apprehensive. Almost as if something was bothering him. Yugi lifted a hand to cup the Millennium Puzzle. It had long ago been vacated, but sometimes Yugi liked to pretend that the Pharaoh was still there, offering his encouraging words and advice.

Sighing, Yugi pulled himself from his misery, and focused on his newly acquired guest. Ryou had taken up residence on the couch, legs folded and his hands clasped together in his lap, the perfect picture of politeness.

Yugi moved over to the couch as well, sitting down next to Ryou. He watched as his white haired companion seemed to be running through hundreds of emotions, all being processed at one time.

"Is there something you need to talk about?" Yugi questioned, a sympathetic look on his face as he placed a soft hand on Ryou's thigh. The whittete immediately lurched away, his posture turning defensive.

"S-Sorry," Yugi stuttered, hands going up beside his face as he watched Ryou settle down and relax once more.

"It's quite all right. . ." Ryou muttered, shifting his gaze to the table. "Is that a shower-head?" Ryou asked, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the item. Yugi gave a soft laugh, but nodded.

"Yeah. I have to install a new one. Grandpa tugged a little to hard on our old one. I just finished unwrapping it, and was about to go install it when you got here." Yugi tilted his head, clearly asking his unanswered question from earlier.

"Yes, well . . . Is your grandfather home?" Ryou asked timidly, eyes flitting around and blatantly ignoring Yugi's curious tone. With a slightly irritated sigh, Yugi fiddled with one of his bangs.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was. . ._off_ about Ryou. It was at times like this where Yugi seriously pined for ex-friend the Pharaoh. Yami would probably have sensed immediately what was bothering the whittete so much.

"No, he's not home," Yugi confided, and fiddled with one of his silver bracelets. "Hey, Ryou? How about I go get us some Fruit Punch?" When Ryou gave a shaky nod, Yugi rose to his feet, and turned his back to the whittete.

Yugi felt a sharp blow to his head, and then he collapsed.

-(-o-)-

Ryou stared down at Yugi, gasping as tears ran down his cheeks. He couldn't believe he'd just done that! Glistening chocolate eyes slid to the now bloodied shower-head clasped tightly in his thin-fingered grasp.

Choking down bile, Ryou knew he had to finish this and run. Solomon wasn't home yet, but Yugi hadn't specified where he'd gone, or when he'd be home. So, lifting up the shower head, Ryou brought it crashing down onto Yugi's small skull.

He felt the skin give way, bruising beneath his blow. Ryou was even vaguely aware that with each swing he made a cracking noise erupted, and Yugi seemed to be suffering internal bleeding. His skin was even beginning to become discolored.

Shuddering, Ryou dropped to his knees and began bashing in Yugi's head more, watching as the skin peeled back and revealed a skeletal jaw. It wasn't until the right side of Yugi's face had been completely obliterated that Ryou finally paused in his doings, and dropped the shower-rod to the ground.

A choking sob wracked his body, and Ryou scrambled away from Yugi, not believing what he'd done. Not wanting to believe what he'd done! And all it had taken was a few pretty words. . .

-(-o-)-

Marik parked his motorcycle outside of the Kame Game Shop, making sure to leave it on idle in case he needed a quick get away. He couldn't give two shits about that stupid white haired hikari residing within the Shop.

The only reason Marik had even needed him to begin with was because Yugi didn't like being alone with Marik. Even though the blonde had fed him all that shit about turning good, the spiky-haired boy still didn't believe him.

In reality, Marik _had_ tired being good, there for a little bit. But what was the point in being good if everybody still treated you like a villain? So Marik decided that he'd go back to what he was good at; being bad.

This was his final act, though, before he disappeared from this shitty little town. It'd taken a year, but Marik had finally convinced Bakura's stupid little hikari to do this for him. Marik truly missed his Millennium Rod, but there was no helping that. . .

Something caught his attention, and he saw a bloody figure stumbling from the Shop, a sadistic grin spread over its pale face. Marik recognized it as Ryou, and smirked. He supposed he could let the boy tell his story first, perhaps give him a little fondling, and then Marik would kill him too.

As Ryou drew closer, though, Marik realized that it wasn't the little white haired hikari. No, no, this was someone much different. . . And certainly much more welcome.

"Hello, partner," Yami no Bakura smirked, wing-like protrusions of hair finally showing, and his crimson eyes appearing from behind snowy white bangs. His canines were bared against one another as his lips pulled back in that contemptuous way.

"Bakura," Marik grinned. "Did your hikari happen to finish my little assignment in there, by the way?"

Bakura's eyes narrowed, before nodding. "Yes, yes. He's so scared now, though, that he has receded back into his mind, and allowed me to take over. Fool as he was, he'd thought I'd disappeared forever."

"I'm not going to lie," Marik mused, fiddling with his motorcycle's handles, "I figured you'd be gone forever too."

"Well, looks like you were wrong. You can never defeat the shadows," Bakura chuckled harshly. His crimson eyes roamed over Marik's body for a minute, before stepping forward and hopping onto the bike, grasping Marik's hips. Marik merely rolled his eyes. How like Bakura, to just assume he could steal a ride.

"So are we partners again, then?" Marik questioned, buckling his helmet into place.

"Yes of course," Bakura smirked, leaning forward as Marik took off. "Just remember you promised to play with my balls."

-(-o-)-

**-Beats head against desk-**

**Seriously, I don't even know. . . The Shower-head thing was based off a trip to Wal-Mart with my dad, and the balls part was based off of a conversation had with my dad's girlfriend. xD**

**Blegh. . . There wasn't enough gore in this one, but I've never really seen anyone get their face smashed in. . . I just know it can happen. Eh.**


	8. Chapter 8: Play Time

**Play Time**

**Warning: Rape using objects, Blood, and Gore; mentioned Thiefshipping**

**Rated: M / NC-17**

**Characters: Yami Marik, Yami Bakura, and mentioned Marik Ishtar**

**-In this fic I'll alternate from saying Yami Marik, to Marik, since Hikari Marik's name is never really said-**

Bakura opened his eyes, lids peeling back across gunk covered eyes. He could feel the eye-buggers sticking to his lids and eyelashes, and attempted to raise a hand to wipe at them. Something bound his wrists in place, though, and he was left trying to peer through the wall of crust warping his vision.

Experimentally, he attempted to shift a little bit, and realized that he was bound in place, and that his limbs weren't functioning correctly. They were lethargic and virtually unresponsive, and on top of that they appeared to be held in place by something. Baring his teeth together, Bakura could do nothing but wait until whoever had put him in this mess returned.

And return he did.

"Hello, Bakura," a voice purred, deep and low. Bakura recognized it; the double-toned mocking sound that imitated Marik Ishtar's own loud, nasally voice. Pulling his lips back in what should've been a threatening snarl, he swiveled his head, attempting to see where Yami Marik was in the room.

He heard heavy footfalls, before a hand was fisted in his hair, jerking hard at the snowy locks. Bakura let out a strangled noise, but killed it quickly in his throat. Never would he, Yami Bakura, allow someone to hear him scream.

His thoughts were disrupted by a finger poking savagely into his eyes, probing at the gelatinous skin of his orbs, and wiping away the crusties framing his lids. Hissing at the rough touch, he snapped his eyes open wide to stare angrily up into the smirking face of Yami Marik.

"Thirsty, Bakura?" Yami Marik drawled, voice calm and relaxed. Bakura let out a savage bark, before shifting his gaze down to his prone, pallid body. He could see now that he was in a dark room, one gloomy candle flickering pathetically upon a nightstand. It was the only furniture in the room.

Bakura himself was chained up to a wall, spread-eagle against its smooth surface. Every time he moved in the slightest, he could feel his back and ass-cheeks grinding against the wall. Scowling, he looked down to see his naked body, and realized that his nipples were perked and that his pale skin was covered in goose-flesh.

"What am I doing here?" Bakura rasped, straining at the chains tying him to the wall. Yami Marik gave a fake pout, before leaning forward and pinching one of Bakura's nipples. The albino let out a sharp cry, and tried to press harder back against the wall.

Yami Marik let out a high-pitched, shrieking laugh that reverberated off the walls, bouncing around. Blatantly ignoring Bakura's question, Yami Marik let his tongue drip from his mouth, as he pulled the Millennium Rod out.

Bakura stared at it, eyes narrowing angrily.

"C'mon then, cut me you bastard!" Bakura snarled, lurching at his chains in order to get across how absolutely pissed off he was about this whole mess. Yami Marik obliged, and unsheathed the Rod. With one more sick, twisted grin, he slashed across Bakura's collar-bone, drawing a suppressed groan from the pale yami.

Marik watched in fascination as the blood traveled down, snagging on Bakura's nipple, just to drip down to his hips. The Egyptian yami ran his finger down the trail of blood, fingernails being dyed its beautiful color as he followed the little beads of ruby.

His finger continued to follow them as it ran down onto Bakura's cock. The finger paused at the head, though, and fingered the tip for a moment. Bakura let out a snarl from being touched, and attempted to wiggle backwards, but was met yet again by the harsh, unforgiving wall.

"Don't touch me, you filthy bastard!" Bakura howled, attempting to jerk away. Marik just looked up at him, cheeks pulling back into a lined mess as his grin over-took his face. With a loud cackle, Marik plunged forward, wrapping his lips around Bakura's cock.

The pale yami screamed, and struggled against him, attempting to pull away. Yami Marik just hummed, and gripped Bakura's hips, holding the pale yami in place as he continued to suck him off. Bakura glared angrily through lidded eyes down at his captor, but then felt teeth piercing the sensitive flesh of his dick.

"Fuck!" Bakura yelped, and he could see Yami's Marik grin widening.

Marik pulled back a little, letting his overly long tongue swirl about Bakura's now throbbing, red cock. With a dark chuckle, Yami Marik let his wet member slide gracefully back into his mouth. Bakura stared down at the blonde, breaths coming in heavy pants.

Yami Marik watched with cold, laughing lavender orbs as Bakura began to settle back down, catching his breath. He was still glaring murderously up at Marik, but was still regaining composure.

Marik's grin turned cold and harsh, though, as he brought the Millennium Rod back to attention. Bakura hissed as he spotted the Rod, and could only assume that was going to be cut again.

Marik surprised him, yet again, though, as he leaned forward, tongue-tip playing in the pre-cum that had gathered at the head of Bakura's penis. The albino squirmed, lips moving in a squiggled line across his face as he fought the urge to cry out. He hated this, but he could never deny that it was pleasurable.

All pleasure abruptly ended, however, as he felt something sharp being shoved into his asshole. Bakura cried out in pain, and writhed against the wall, worsening his position. He felt tears gather at the corners of his eyes as he stared down at Marik and realized that the Millennium Rod, blade first, had just been shoved inside of him.

Biting down viciously on his lip, Bakura felt the inside of his ass getting ripped to shreds as Marik moved the Rod in and out, tip to base. He could feel the bat like protrusions stabbing occasionally at his balls, causing him to actually cry out from the pain. He still held back his tears, though, and could do nothing as he was taken by the Rod.

Marik watched it all gleefully, and even stopped occasionally to lean in and lick the blood from Bakura's thighs, allowing his tongue to roam over the soft skin, relishing as Bakura's muscles pumped vigorously beneath the skin.

Reaching up a hand, Marik began jerking Bakura off as he slammed the Rod into his captive, watching as Bakura's face rippled with conflicting emotions. Marik knew that the yami was enjoying parts of this, and he could see it in the way that Bakura's eyes glimmered in a haze, and how he was pushing his hips upwards into Marik's hand. None of it was intentional, of course, but Marik still saw it.

When Bakura finally came, Marik pulled the Millennium Rod from Bakura's entrance with a sharp tug, causing the pale yami to cry out from the sudden pain, and to whimper from the loss. Bakura's head lolled forwards, and his chin rested against his chest, panting as he recovered from his recent orgasm.

"Did that feel good, Bakura?" Marik cackled, voice crooning as he did so.

A crimson gaze raised up to meet him, eyes defeated and darkened. But Bakura nodded. Then shook his head. Finally, he just shrugged.

"Ah yes. . . So conflicted. But, I must tell you. . .My services aren't free," Marik's voice dropped deep and low, and Bakura's gaze instantly lifted, a flicker of fear crossing over top their depths.

Marik merely smirked, and lifted the bloodied Millennium Rod. Bakura's eyes narrowed at it, his lips pulling back into a snarl, only a shadow of his former self. Yami Marik arched his back, cackling maniacally as he realized he was the one to defeat the almighty Touzouku-ou!

And he was going to do even more then that.

Reaching forwards, Marik gripped Bakura's limp cock. The pale yami squirmed in his grasp, confusion gracing his fine features. Marik merely tugged at the flaccid member. Bakura opened his mouth, possibly to protest, but Marik was quicker.

With a flash, the Millennium Rod shot forwards, ripping through Bakura's cock and severing it easily from the skin. And for once, Bakura screamed without constraint. He screamed and screamed, stretching his vocal cords to their limit. Tears burst from between his lids, seeing as he'd clamped them shut from the pain.

Gasping, choking and sobbing, he opened his eyes to see Marik, Bakura's severed dick in his mouth as he chewed absently at the head of it. Bakura groaned, and screamed some more, but Marik had grown tired of it.

With an irritated snarl, Marik's hand clamped down over-top Bakura's mouth, wanting to say what needed to be said before the yami died on him. After all, his host's body certainly couldn't stay alive after that.

"Do you know why this is happening?" Marik asked, anger creeping into his voice.

Bakura made a weak sounding moan, and his eyes began to dim. Marik realized that he was beginning to die, fading fast from this world.

"It's because you touched what is mine," Marik snarled. "My hikari is mine, and you better pray that when we are all reincarnated once more, you remember this.

"Remember that he's _mine._"

-(-o-)-

**If you want too, this is almost like a sequel to All For You, but not officially. Also, you could take Yami Marik's words as Bronzeshipping, or not. I meant in the way as: Marik's his property, and Yami Marik didn't want other people touching him (like little kids fighting over a toy)**

**So, someone said that I should probably up the rating on this story to M. But, I figured, if it's going up to M, I'm making sure it damn well needs it! xD According to FF, rated T should be appropriate for thirteen year olds. Now, I'm fourteen writing this, but I recognize that not everybody is a morbid little freak like me. So~**

**Hope I didn't scary anybody away with this. . . Funny thing about this? I actually thought of this at a family gathering. There was this wooden spoon there, and my uncle pissed me off, so I started chasing him around my granny's trailer as I beat him with it. After I was done, the spoon made me think of the Millennium Rod, so then I thought that I was acting like Yami Marik a~nd this story was born. (no I did not think of raping my uncle in the ass. we may be southerners, but we don't do incest)**

**FUUUUUU- I said I'd never write a detailed lemon but. . .**

**I REGRET NOTHING**

**(**...I regret everything about this story, actually...**)**

**Please review!**

**(**. . .Oh my God I'm going to Hell. . . **)  
><strong>


	9. Chapter 9: Dark Woods Circus

**Dark Woods Circus  
><strong>

**Warning: Mutated Creatures and Character Death**

**Rated: Story is rated T. My A/N is rated M.**

**Characters: Mokuba Kaiba, Yugi Moto, Yami no Yugi, Yami no Bakura, Marik Ishtar, Anzu Mazaki, Jounouchi Katsuya, and Yami Marik.**

-(-o-)-

Mokuba Kaiba, a tender age of ten, knelt down on the cobbled street, feeling the stones grind at his jean-covered knees. His hands reached out, grasping the small little flyer that was stuck between rocks, being held in place as its corners flapped futilely in the wind.

Pushing his matted black hair away from his soft face, Mokuba let his eyes scan over the surface, reading the words there:

_ Tonight, well be showing_

_ The sad fate that some of this world carry_

_ Children that God has abandoned, restlessly creeping out_

_ Children who cant even carry the trembling limbs they were born with_

_ Their shaking tongues even accidentally cry out_

_ The crowns of their head that caress the dark clouds_

_ They smile as they dream of their mothers embrace_

_ Oh, the deformity!_

_ DEFORMITY!_

_ Drop by and see him_

Mokuba felt a slight shiver wrack his body, and a wry smile spread over his face. So it was a freak-show, then? He'd often heard his big brother Seto speak of them, but Mokuba himself had never been allowed to visit them.

Standing up, he clutched the parchment in his hand and easily dodged an on-coming carriage. Flickering his gaze down to the paper once more, he saw that the Freak Show was being held right then. Sucking in a sharp breath, Mokuba read the location once more, and pocketed the paper, his course set.

-(-o-)-

Trees rose tall and strong above him, blocking out the sky. Nothing was visible aside from a rather large red tent at the end of the tunnel. Occasionally, what appeared to be the flickering of red eyes appeared. A slight chill ran down Mokuba's back, but he brushed it away and focused on heading towards the scarlet tent.

_ Deep into the forest, far far in the back that way_

_ There is a circus_

_ The chairman with the big eyes_

_ and ten meters tall_

_ All of the cast is jolly_

_ Their forms are rather strange_

_ but its so fun!_

_ the Dark woods circus_

Suddenly, an overly large leg plopped down before him, causing Mokuba to cry out in alarm. Looking upwards, he followed the pin-striped pants leg up to its owner, and realized that it belonged to a man with a messy mop of blonde hair.

A girl, strangely tall like him, was beside him, her long dress billowing down over-top her elongated limbs. They ignored Mokuba, though, and grasped hands, twirling around together. Mokuba watched as the blue eyed, brown haired girl smiled happily up at the blonde man holding her, crooning with joy with each step she took.

Mokuba deftly avoided their large feet, and focused on reaching the tent once more. Peeling back the flap, Mokuba ducked his head inside, and was immediately greeted by a grinning figure. For a moment, there was only darkness, so Mokuba could tell nothing at all about the strange shadow before him.

A flickering came from above, however, and Mokuba saw a light come to life. Tilting his head downwards, Mokuba's mouth dropped in a silent scream as he stared at the person, or thing, before him.

_One with two heads_

The boy before him had two head sprouting from his body. Both shared similar, star-shaped hair made primarily of a dark, inky black. One head was high-lighted at the tips with violet that matched his eyes. The other head was tipped with crimson that matched _his _eyes.

The violet-eyed head smiled happily at Mokuba.

"I'm Yugi! Welcome to the Dark Wood Circus! My brother Yami is, as you can see, my right hand head," Yugi giggled, bubbling with joy as he shoved a pale, timid hand at Mokuba, who accepted it nervously.

"Come, now," Yami commanded, eyes narrowing in an angry way. "Our first stop is Marik." Mokuba stumbled after the two-headed boy, watching his leather-clad body as they moved through the tent towards a steel cage.

_A deformed diva_

Mokuba peered inside the cage and saw a boy kneeling down in the grungy crate. His head rested against the bars of his cell, eyes lidded. He had perfectly tanned skin despite the fact that he was obviously not frequently let out. His clothing only consisted of black britches, however, revealing that his legs were bent and crooked, almost like a goat's. Mokuba could also see large scars scratched into his caramel skin, watching as they moved as the boy-Marik's-shoulder boys rolled.

Marik's eyes opened, and sad, cold lavender eyes locked onto Mokuba's face, hatred twisting his features. The blonde haired boy looked away from Mokuba, and instead focused on the boy in the cage opposite him.

Turning, Mokuba focused on this new crate.

_A blue beast that loves to eat things cold_

"Bakura," Marik whimpered, and Mokuba could easily identify now what this new entity's name was. The one named Bakura was dressed in a blue and white striped shirt, but it was obscured by the fact that he was bound by a straight-jacket. Spiked white hair framed his face, and his blue tinged lips hung open, revealing a mouth full of bloodied canines.

His scarlet eyes stared vacantly in Marik's direction, and his pale toes curled inwards on each other, but other then that he remained unresponsive. Mokuba shuddered, and looked questioningly towards Yugi and Yami. Yugi, however, said nothing, and just offered a cute little giggle, coking his head in an innocent way.

Yami remained impassive, eyes hard as he stared at nothing in particular.

Marik shifted in his cage, hands reaching through his bars. His torso pressed up against the bars, and Mokuba saw goose-flesh brake out over his chest. Gulping, he watched as Marik made pathetic mewling noises as he reached out for Bakura, fingers hooking feebly into needy hooks.

"_Does anyone wish that I were alive, so undesirable I am in this body?_

_ Why do you look at me like that?_

_ This face that is rotting_"

Marik's voice was soft and low, but the tune still carried. Mokuba shuddered at the blonde's voice, and could feel his arm hair raising from the sheer emotion in Marik's voice. With a choked noise, Mokuba stumbled forwards, wanting to get away from what appeared to be two ex-lovers.

Surprisingly, it was Yami who placed an arm on Mokuba's shoulder, holding the boy in place. With a heavy sigh, Yami opened his mouth, and spoke:

"_Its painful, its painful, and it cant be helped_

_ She said it_

_ but still, we continue this circus_."

Mokuba frowned. He didn't like this Freak Show at all. When he wasn't allowed to visit, these things seemed so interesting! But now. . . Staring from Marik's heart-broken expression, to Bakura's vacant one, and then to Yugi's _to _happy one. . . Mokuba felt genuinely unnerved.

"_It's fun, so fun!_

_ This circus is so fun_"

Yugi's voice crooned out the words, and Mokuba shuddered once more. This was not fun... This was sick and disgusting, and he wanted nothing more to do with it. Turning on his heel, Mokuba prepared to exit the tent, but a hand gripped his arm, holding him in a vice like grip.

Suddenly lips were on his ear, and a voice like sand-paper was growling:

"_Rotten fruit, to dissolve my eyes_

_ My skin festers, reflected on my eyes_."

Mokuba screamed, but a tanned hand clamped over his mouth and jerked his head back. Suddenly, he had a full-view of a terrifying, fur-speckled face. Stormy blue eyes peered down into his face, and a broad pink nose snuffled curiously at him. Large, spiky blonde hair sprouted around the furred face, almost like a lion's mane.

To further accentuate that, a long, whip-like tail snaked out behind the man holding him, wriggling in the air like a demented reptile. Mokuba stifled a cry, and instead focused on the fact that claws were ripping into his neck, disposing him of his life.

With a loud cackle, the lion-like man bent over and scooped up Mokuba's corpse, slinging it over his broad shoulders. He then turned to the occupants of the tent, a twisted smirk on his face.

Yugi smiled cheerfully back at him; Yami scowled; Marik still looked lovingly across to Bakura; and Bakura stayed silent as always, the only difference now was the small line of saliva dribbling down his chin.

With a smirk, the lion-man pulled a rope from his pocket, and tied Mokuba up by it from the ceiling of the tent, twisting a few of his limbs and stuffing a few flowers down the boy's throat for decoration purposes.

Marik stared listlessly at the mutilated body, before opening his mouth, lyrical voice pooling from between his lips as he rose in pitch, wailing the warning to any stupid future visitors like poor little Mokuba:

"_This child has to cower alone_

_ I guess the shadows reach long_

_ But the friends that talk have their waists aligned_

_ You are later and before and by yourself_

_ Oh, you're here, you're here!_

_ Drop by and see him_

_ Drop by and see him_

_ Drop by, to the Dark Woods_"

Yugi giggled: _It's Fun!_

-(-o-)-

**Oh my God it's fucking Six fucking AM (**when I started, now it's seven forty seven**) here and I'm still awake! All because my stupid brain's a fucking cock sucking, cunt licking, cum guzzling bitch of a whore! And you know what's stuck in my head? A picture of fucking Marik tea-bagging Bakura. Marik's balls. In Bakura's mouth. IT'S FUCKING DISGUSTING AND IT WON'T GO AWAY!**

**... And I just found out today that my dog has two nipples fused together ...**

**Ugh, either way ... I figured since I'm have to stay awake until FUCKING FOUR PM now, that I might as well write another FUCKING UPDATE on something unimportant, cuz I think if I tried to write on one of my 'real stories' I'd fuck it up. Big time.**

**This is based off of the Dark Woods Circus sung by the Vocaloids, and yes I did take out a few lines of the song.**

**... Please review and all that jazz **

**See ya.**

**(**This is also the first story that isn't focused on the Yami/hikari Villain pairing. So-far, then, this fic has pretty much been a giant fucking mosh pit of Conspireshipping shit. Fuck**.)**

**... I'm sorry for ranting...**

**(**I haven't edited this yet, sorry. I will... Eventually... When I'm less pissy.**)  
><strong>


	10. Chapter 10: Where the Sun Don't Shine

**Where the Sun Don't Shine**

**Rated: NC-17 (**Really, seriously, I know I suck at rating. But this one. Trust meeeee)

**Warnings: Stalking, masturbation **(I just want you all to know, writing that actually hurt me a little on the inside...) **Thiefshipping, and Shameless FLUFF**

**Characters: Yami Bakura and Marik Ishtar, with minor Ryou Bakura**

-(-o-)-

Taking a sharp inhalation, Bakura slid underneath the couch. He'd told Marik that he'd be out running some errands, so that the blonde would have the house all to himself. Marik's eyes had lit up with excitement, and all Bakura could do was attempt to hide the smirk that had been tugging at his lips.

Oh, there was an errand to do, but it was inside this house, and had everything to do with his roommate. The Egyptian had once let slip that he sun-bathed naked. Marik had then attempted to justify his hobby, hoping to repair the damage.

But no repairs could be made, and Bakura's curiosity had been sparked. That was why Bakura had decided to do this. He never saw Marik sneaking off, so the only sensible solution was that Marik did it when they weren't home. After all, they lived near no town, so Marik could easily go out on the back-porch and relish in the sunlight.

And today, Bakura could relish Marik's body.

Pulling his long, snowy white hair fully underneath the couch, Bakura focused on the sound of feet hitting the carpet as Marik awoke for the day. He heard the boy yawn, before the blonde made his way into the kitchen, presumably fixing him some cereal. On the inside, Bakura cursed the Gods.

All curses flew out the window, however, as he saw what Marik was wearing.

Bakura's throat immediately dried up as he saw Marik sit on the carpet, wearing a shirt that was to big and hung off his shoulders, and for some reason that Bakura really didn't want to know about, Marik was wearing panties.

Girl panties.

But Bakura wasn't going to say he wasn't enjoying the view.

Marik sat cross-legged on the floor, legs spread wide and allowing Bakura to each and every muscle moving throughout the boy's leg, along with the slight bump that a girl wouldn't have had. Running a tongue over his lips, Bakura had to fight the urge to jump and just take Marik on the coffee table.

He hoped this would be worth the wait.

When Marik had finished eating, he deposited his bowl in the sink and headed towards the back porch. Opening the door, the Egyptian stepped out into the warm September air. He could hear bird-calls, and a few late cicadas still causing disturbances in the surrounding woods.

"Mm, I'm so glad Bakura left," Marik mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. Bakura watched avidly as the t-shirt rose tantalizingly, showing half of Marik's panty-clad ass for just a moment, before covering it once more. It finally hit him though, what Marik said. Frowning slightly, Bakura couldn't really decide, just yet, whether or not to be offended.

The blonde stepped fully out onto the wooden porch, and became surrounded in a halo of light. Each strand of his golden hair seem to come alive as it broke apart, floating around his creamy, caramel skin. Bakura bit his lip, and slid from underneath the sofa.

Skirting around the furniture, Bakura snuck to the drapes while Marik still had his back turned. Positioning himself around the curtains, Bakura curled the fabric in a little around him, to where Marik wouldn't see him, but he could see Marik.

Smirking, Bakura was ready for the show to begin.

Marik made a small little humming noise as he lifted his t-shirt up slowly, running his fingers along his abs and showing off his golden body to the lurking albino. Bakura felt his breath quicken as the boy lifted the shirt completely off of his body, twirling it around his head a little before letting it drop to the ground.

Next, Marik slipped his fingers into the waist-band of his panties. Bakura mentally urged him to remove the last article of clothing. Marik, however, seemed to have different ideas, seeing as he gripped the front of the panties and shifted them a little, rubbing it against his cock. A moan burst from Marik's softened, pink lips, and Bakura had to bite back his own call.

Shit, he'd just wanted to see Marik naked! But this... Bakura felt his hand traveling downwards, rubbing softly at the already-forming tent in his jeans.

_**Bakura?**_ A voice in his head whispered, and Bakura froze, realizing that his Host, Ryou, was speaking to him through the link._** Bakura, I feel funny. What're you doing in my body?**_

Bakura felt slightly panicky, and he swiftly took his hand away from his boner. He had to fight ever urge, though, as he saw Marik slip a finger into his panties, stroking his own cock in a teasing way. It was at that point that Bakura realized that he was panting, just from seeing Marik's face twist in such a way.

_Fuck, Ryou! Go back to sleep! I have business to take care of!_ Bakura commanded his light-half. His panic must've shown through, however, because Ryou surfaced. He hadn't taken control of the body, but he had come close enough to the surface to see what was going on.

_**Oh my!**_ Ryou cried, _**Isn't that your little friend Marik? He looks... Well... If you'll excuse my French he looks... Damn.**_

Bakura mentally snarled at Ryou, and he felt jealousy rise up within him. Why the hell did Ryou have to go and ruin everything?-! Here Marik was, giving a strip-tease in _fucking panties_ for Christ's Sake, _while he touched himself._ Bakura would never get another chance like this!

_Go away, Ryou,_ Bakura growled inwardly, watching as Marik began to slowly lower the hem of the panties. _You go the fuck away right fucking now or I'll whip out our penis and then leave the body, so it looks like _you_ were jerking off to Marik!_

Bakura smirked as he could hear Ryou's link trembling with fear and embarrassment. When he finally receded, Bakura returned to stroking himself, watching as Marik ever-so-slowly lowered the cotton undergarment that had blocked Bakura's amazing view.

Feeling his breath hitch in his throat, Bakura decided that touching himself through the jeans wasn't enough. Scrabbling frantically at the button and zipper, Bakura never let his eyes leave the sexy tanned teen before him.

Marik turned his back on Bakura, and strutted over to one of their lawn chairs. There was a purple and a blue one; and you can guess which one belonged to who. Marik promptly lay back in his purple chair, hands running up his body to shove his mass of hair away from his face.

"Mm," Marik mumbled, and his hands slid lower. The left one gripped his cock, and Bakura bit back a groan as he watched Marik slowly move his hand up and down the shaft, one hand cupping his balls. Bakura's eyes became lidded as he pulled out his own erection, rubbing at the swollen length as he watched Marik do the same.

Marik stopped stroking for a moment, and Bakura paused too, genuinely confused. He ached to start pumping again, but he wanted to see Marik doing it at the same time. So, with plenty of effort, Bakura resisted touching himself, in favor of watching Marik's plump ass going into the air as he reached for something.

Bakura was surprised when the blonde resurfaced, a bottle of lube in hand. Realizing where this was going, the albino had to bite his lip hard to avoid moaning out in pure bliss. He longed to touch his cock, but yet again fought down temptation.

Instead, he focused on the fact that Marik was putting lube one finger, before transitioning it to his ass. Bakura let out a breathy moan that was almost audible as he watched Marik slowly rub circles against his entrance, before finally entering his finger. The boy began moving his finger in and out as he gripped his cock, moving them in synchronization.

More moans burst from Marik's lips, and Bakura began stroking himself again, moving in time to Marik. He watched as the Egyptian's hips bounced back and forth, pushing into his hand and pushing back onto his fingers, attempting to achieve that one, blissful moment.

Bakura was working for a much similar goal, hand moving in a blur as he watched Marik through a haze, loving the way the Egyptian's back arched, and the way his neck curved as his mouth fell open, panting out words of encouragement that Bakura's mind couldn't even process at that moment.

It was just _him._ Marik. Everything about him. That stupidity. That ignorance. That ability to be the one and only person that Bakura didn't want to kill. It was all just Marik. Infuriating, sarcastic, controlling, sadistic, annoying... Beautiful Marik.

Finally, he saw Marik reach a fever-pitch, and new the blonde was about to finish.

"Ah," Marik moaned, "ah," Bakura pumped faster, "B-Bakura!" Marik cried, releasing his seed all over his hand. Bakura came too, with a groan and a softer whisper of 'Marik', before what the blonde said fully hit him.

Feeling shock ripple through him, he stared as Marik turned soft, lavender eyes in his direction, and a sleepy smile spread over his tanned face.

"Did you enjoy the show, Bakura?" Marik laughed, and Bakura froze, before peeking out from behind the curtains.

"You... You knew?-!" Bakura demanded, rising to his feet, and completely forgetting that his dick was still out in the open, as his pants were undone. Marik noticed, however, and smirked.

"Of course I noticed. Bakura, you never run errands," Marik replied, rising up and gliding towards Bakura. The albino felt momentarily stunned as he looked into Marik's eyes, and the boy placed a hand on each of Bakura's cheeks(**A/N: Face cheeks, dammit**) , pulling the albino in closer. "Really, you should've come up with a better excuse."

"Why... Why did you-?"

"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Marik smirked. "I did it because I. Love. You." Marik leaned in, crushing his lips to Bakura's for the first time. Bakura groaned, and returned the favor, wrapping his arms around Marik's back and crushing the boy into him.

_**Damn.**_

_Shut up, Ryou._

-(-o-)-

**I'm going to Hell and I deserve it! T.T (**Btw, in case you're confused, Marik doesn't really wear girl panties. He did it to fuck with Bakura... Wait... Mentally fuck with Bakura. He MIND FUCKED HIM... There's no way of saying that without it sounding perverted...)**  
><strong>

**Y'all probably won't believe me cuz of how much I seem to be writing it lately, but... I really don't enjoy writing smut. So why do I keep doing it? Because staying up for three days straight is NOT A GOOD FUCKING IDEA. My brain is fizzled out... Ugh. Hopefully, I'll pass out tonight, sleep for about a day, and then come back and write on one of the real stories I have going on. I'm not even posting this on Tumblr, since this is pretty damn mature...**

**Oh yeah, if you've read Marik and Bakura go to Censored Town, it's slightly based off of that. Marik says he tans where the sun don't shine, and Bakura was wondering when the heck he did that? Well, kinda rolling off of that, but without that actually story...**

**However, I couldn't write something like this in Abridged characterization. So~**

**By the way, for those of you who enjoy gore, I'll bring it back, probably, in the next chapter. Unless I do something stupid and fluffy... I really wanna get away from smut. I feel like such a pervert writing it... Seriously. Describing Marik's ass and skin was not fun. I like Marik and Bakura as characters; I don't think either of them are 'hot' or 'sexy', and writing them as such is weird. (**I winced visibly so many times whilst writing this... My dad thought I was watching Two Girls One Cup, that's how bad it was.)

**And no bugging me because Ryou cussed, and liked seeing Marik in panties. Ryou is a SIXTEEN YEAR OLD MALE (**well... probably older in this story. I dunno.**) he has hormones and other things, and I'm sure he would've cursed, if he had enough screen-time. xD**

**Please review and see-ya. (**I'm still not really sure on my capabilities of writing smut/sex/anything like that, so~ yeah. And I still think of roosters every time I write cock.)


	11. Chapter 11:All You Could've Been

**All You Could've Been**

**Rated: Eh... K+ maybe.**

**Warnings: Thiefshipping, minor language  
><strong>

**Character(s): Yami Bakura and Marik Ishtar**

Bakura pulls his hood over his fluffed white hair, hissing as the rain pelted his tender skin, drenching and freezing him effectively at the same time. Shoving his tongue between his teeth, he resisted the urge to turn back, knowing that no matter what, he had to do this.

Water soaked his sneakers, and drenched his pants-legs, but he couldn't really be bothered by that. He just continued walking, ignoring the rain and the squelching noises his soaked socks were making as they rubbed at the heel of his shoes.

Finally, he crested the hill, and was face with the full-frontal assault of the rain, feeling it lash angrily at him from his now higher perch. Grumbling, he fiddled with his hood, and stomped down the hill, slipping and sliding in the mud.

He passed several markers, but paid them no heed, not caring for these pathetic mortals. Those flowers meant nothing to him, because he knew they, too, would soon age and decay, just as the rotting corpses lying beneath his feet would do.

So, passing all of these, he finally reached the one stone he was looking for. Staring at the name engraved onto the stone, Bakura had to bite his lip to hold back any incriminating noises, since memories seemed to be pouring in...

_"Bakura..." a nasally voice interrupted Bakura's sleep. Growling, he rolled over, feeling the covers shift against his skin as he situated himself to be able to look at the bed across from his. Marik had insisted that he and Bakura have separate beds; something about it being improper for two friends to share a bed._

_ "What is it, you insufferable fool?" Bakura snarled, lips twisting upwards into a sneer as he revealed his sharp canines. It was all in good fun though, and he knew that Marik was tough enough to take his insults, and even laugh at them._

_ "Bakura... What do you think of me?" Marik questioned, voice small and quiet. Bakura blinked, clearly startled at this turn of events. He had expected the blonde to command him to fetch a sandwich or something but..._

_ "You're a pathetic mortal, and that's all you'll ever be. You'll die, and I'll live. However," Bakura interrupted, sniffing and turning his nose up as he pushed hair from his burning, scarlet eyes, "while you're still alive, you should feel grateful that someone as great as me is gracing you with their presence. Now good-night!"_

_ With that harsh, final sentence, Bakura rolled over, tugging the covers around his shoulders and glaring angrily at nothing in general. He heard Marik make a small noise, and Bakura clenched his eyes shut. _

_ He hadn't wanted to say that but... It was true enough. Marik was a human, and they all died eventually. Bakura didn't want to be hurt that way. So he would keep Marik as a friend... A friend that he knew was waiting in line for death._

Bakura snorted as he stared down at the tomb-stone, anger welling up in his eyes.

"Stupid bastard, I told you you'd die," Bakura spat harshly, crossing his arms over his wet jacket, and pressing it into his shirt, effectively chilling his chest. He ignored the cold coursing through his body, and instead kicked angrily at the tombstone, cracking it up the middle.

Wincing, he gripped his foot, mouth wrenching open into a snarl again.

"You... You disgusting fucker! How could you!-? You couldn't even give me eighty years you... You... DAMMIT!" Bakura yowled, hood falling back and releasing his mane of white hair to the pelting of the rain.

_"Bakura... Ishizu wants me to go home with her... To Egypt," Marik informed his friend. Bakura's head immediately snapped around, the dread in his eyes diminishing any hopes he had of playing this off._

_ "Why.. What for?-!" Bakura demanded, rising up from the couch and stomping over to the blonde. Marik grimaced at their close proximity, but offered a shrug._

_ "She just wants me around."_

_ "Marik, you're twenty-eight years old, you don't-"_

_ "Actually, that's my line of thought exactly," Marik interrupted, a cold, hard look coming into his eyes. "Bakura, I'm twenty-eight! I've waited twelve years for _this_," Marik waved a tanned hand savagely between the two glaring men, "whatever it is, to go somewhere!"_

_ Bakura averted his eyes, allowing them to narrow as he stared angrily at a sculpture that Marik had bought a few years back. It was a man with the head of a cat, wearing clothes and jewels befitting the Pharaoh. Marik had claimed it reminded him of Bakura. Then they'd fought, rolling on the floor, laughing and breathless._

_ Bakura remembered that Marik had even grown close to kissing him, but the Spirit had disrupted that attempt, and Marik had quickly left it at that. Letting out a hiss of exasperation, Bakura turned back to Marik._

_ "You can't be happy with friendship? How like you stupid mortals. You just want more, more and more!" Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, thinking he had ended this conversation. Marik, however, seemed angrier then before._

_ "Mortal!" Marik shrieked. "Mortal! Mortal! Mortal! That's all you ever say! You were human once to, Akefia Bakura! And is that all I am to you? A stupid mortal?" Marik's face was scrunched up from the effort of yelling, and Bakura could see something glistening around the rims of Marik's eyes._

_ Steeling himself and gritting his teeth, Bakura answered:_

_ "Yes."_

_ The Egyptian froze before him, and a sad, desolate look crossed over his face. Bakura opened his mouth, possibly to question what was wrong, but Marik stepped past him, moving towards the bedroom._

_ "I leave tomorrow."_

_ And Bakura didn't stop him._

Bakura knelt down next to the grave, supposing that if he _was _still Akefia Bakura, he would've broken down and cried. But he wasn't. He was Yami No Bakura, a person crafted of death and anger; embodiment of the shadows themselves.

Marik never seemed to grasp that, even now, when his dead body lay beneath Bakura's feet. Leaning forward, Bakura stroked the cracked tomb-stone, wondering how differently things could've gone if he had kissed Marik that day. Or if he had told the blonde how much he meant to him.

But he'd done none of those things.

Clenching his eyes tight, Bakura remembered when he'd heard that Marik's plane had crashed. He remembered the nightmares that had plagued his mind, as he wondered how Marik's face had twisted, how his burnt flesh looked as it simmered away from his skull, leaving him clean as they crashed into the land.

Letting out a breathy rattle, he couldn't help but feel relieved that Ishizu and Odion had died too. Seeing them... Wouldn't have helped his current frustration. Not to mention, it allowed Bakura to choose where Marik would be buried.

And he'd chosen hear. This graveyard where so long ago he'd defeated Bonz for Marik, obtaining he cards. With a savage grin, Bakura continued petting the tombstone, remembering everything... Everything that was Marik.

Everything he could've been to Marik.

And everything that he wasn't.

Gulping, Bakura rose to his feet, extracting something from his pack-pocket.

"I don't know why I'm doing this for you," Bakura croaked, voice scratching the inside of his throat, "when you couldn't even give me more then twelve years to see your face. To hear your voice. To... Know you.

"Stupid human," Bakura interrupted himself, snarling angrily. "But either way. Yugi was out on a date with pretty little Anzu, and Yami was missing so... I ... Stole this for you. To take with you, since I know how much you loved it."

With that, Bakura lifted the golden shaft clasped in his hand; the Millennium Rod. Marik had truly loved this thing, before Yugi had obtained it, and Bakura figured it was only fair that he had it in his after-life, possibly to fight away the shadows of his sins. His sin for loving the shadows themselves.

"Good-bye, Marik," Bakura muttered, stabbing the Millennium Rod into the ground.

Then he left, never looking back, and never visiting again.

-(-o-)-

**I usually hate sad Thiefshipping, because there's just SO. MUCH. But...**

**... I wanted to write something sad... I have no idea why, though. xD And holy crap, I just now found out, that Marik was sixteen back in the nineties; he's older then my mom (current day)! He'd be in his thirties, round-a-bout. o.O**


	12. Chapter 12: Just to Please You

**Just to Please You**

**Rated: M**

**Warnings: Masturbation... Or a hand-job... I don't... Really know what to classify that is... Whatever, Marik's dick is in this, okay?**

**Characters: Marik Ishtar, Namu, Pastshipping**

Marik sighed, running a hand sloppily through his hair as he ran a hand through his messy hair. Groaning in frustration, he rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes, and pushed his face in close to the mirror. He heard his Millennium Rod smack against the counter, and quickly shifted his attention downwards, seeing the Eye of Horus glowing brightly against the golden object.

Frowning, Marik looked back up to mirror, and let out a small, surprised cry as he saw his reflection moving on its own, pressing its hand to its cheeks and looking about in wonder. Mouth agape, Marik pushed his back against the wall, and watched his reflection remain stationary, watching him through widened, innocent eyes.

"Marik?" His reflection questioned, pressing up against the glass. Marik could see parts of the reflection's palms turning a lighter color from the pressure of being put against the inside of the mirror. The reflection looked saddened by something, and he stared at Marik with a desolate expression.

"Who are you?" Marik demanded, narrowing his lavender eyes angrily at his reflection. The other him only smiled, and pressed its cheek against the glass, making a small, humming noise.

"I'm Namu," the reflection finally answered.

"Na- What?-!" Marik yelped. "You're... You're just a name I used! Back in Battle City! What do you want?" Marik's voice dropped down into a hiss, and he glared angrily through the glass to the now-identified Namu.

Namu didn't answer, and instead lowered his hand, unbuttoning Marik's pants. Surprisingly, Marik could feel the hand, and, looking down, he saw that his pants were indeed undone.

"Stop that!" Marik commanded, hand fluttering down to attempt to press the buttons together once more. "Who do you think you are?" He saw Namu tugging more frantically at the buttons, and Marik eventually had to relinquish his grasp, watching as Namu slid a hand down his britches, coaxing his cock out into the open. And, of course, Marik's followed suit.

Scrunching his face up, he could feel Namu's hand rubbing against his length, causing short moans and gasps to burst from his lips. He saw Namu's mouth curve into a seductive smile (really, Marik was quite the narcissist, wasn't he?) and crooked a finger on his unused hand, motioning for Marik to move closer.

Releasing their cocks, Namu watched greedily as Marik approached the glass.

"So... I can feel what you do?" Marik panted, staring at Namu with a confused glance. The blonde inside the glass nodded and smiled. "Can you feel what I do?" Namu shook his head, sadness in his eyes now.

"No, this is all I can do for my creator..."

"Creator?" Marik questioned, eyes narrowing.

"You created Yami Marik," Namu informed him, hands flickering to his stomach, running up the side. Marik let out a breathy moan, seeing as he could feel Namu's hands on his body. The mirror-person clearly enjoyed this, and his smirk grew wider. "You created me as well," Namu went on, popping a finger into his mouth, and running it down his sides, allowing Marik to feel the wetness across his skin.

"However, I'm not evil or strong, like Yami Marik. I was not born of feelings. I was merely born out of necessity," Namu sighed, and slid his hands lower, grasping his cock and, in turn, causing Marik to buck forward into the invisible hands.

"This will be a one time thing, creator," Namu mumbled around his loud moans, "so please enjoy this thing I can do for you." Marik clenched his eyes closed tight, eyebrows drawing together as he gripped the sink counter, feeling his knees buckling from the pleasure of having unknown hands rubbing at his throbbing length.

Finally, it became to much, and Marik came violently, semen shooting out and hitting the sink and mirror. Without thinking, Marik shot forward, pressing his mouth against the glass, and saw Namu doing the same.

And, for one moment, Marik could feel lips connecting with his own, needy and hungry as they moved against his desperately, attempting to get so much in a such a short amount of time. Pulling back, he saw Namu, smiling sadly, waving a hand. Marik leaned forward, finger-tips brushing the glass.

_Blink._

Marik's reflection was back, and Namu was no more. Biting his lip, the blonde stumbled back, shoes hitting the tile as he stared down at his exposed cock. With a slight sigh, Marik quickly buttoned his pants back up, exited the bathroom, smiling as he went up to Ishizu, holding a large plate of pancakes.

-(-o-)-

**Awkward ending is awkward.**

**This is based off of the picture on the AskMalik blog. Look it uuuuuup. There's an AskRyou, AskYugi, AskYami, AskJoey, and AskMariku. (**there's an AskBakura too, but I don't follow that one since it centers around Tendershipping)** None of the others are 'shipping-based', so you can follow them without seeing shippings you don't like/or getting your ships bashed. Enjoy~**

**Eh, review if you wish. They do make me happy. :) Though with this fuckery... Blargh. Seriously... Something's wrong with me. Marik as a ballerina, Bakura's whale penis... And now... Dammit.**

**(**If you're a fan of Pastshipping, I'm not trying to offend you. This shipping I just... Really don't get.**)**


	13. Chapter 13: We'll Meet Again

**We'll Meet Again**

**Rating: K+ / T**

**Warnings: Possible Citronshipping and Shota (**I say possible because you could take it as shota/citron, or you could do like I do, and pretend it's more-so family-like**)**

**Characters: Marik Ishtar, Thief King Bakura, Isis Ishtar, and Odion Ishtar**

**(**Isis and Odion, when they appear, are the ages: 18, 26**)**

Marik made a humming noise at the back of his throat, swinging his feet carefully so as to not kick the horse he sat side-saddle on. The beautiful black mare would've certainly tossed him off if he dared to do anything of the sort, and the master certainly wouldn't come to Marik's aid.

No, no, the master was more or less a rough, uncaring type of man, and would've insisted that Marik should've been in trouble. The master would never kneel down next to Marik, taking him into his strong arms as he made sure nothing was broken.

No, no, the master would force Marik onto his feet, and make him walk bare-footed across the sand as they wandered through the desert, not delivering Marik his slippers until they reached the inn they'd be staying at that night. And, on top of that, he wouldn't give Marik dinner, effectively teaching the boy not to kick horses, even if by accident.

Marik knew all this from experience.

Pushing his odd blonde hair away from his face, Marik looked forwards, seeing his and the horse's master. The master had opted to let Marik ride the horse, so the master decided to walk. He had slippers on, of course, but it didn't change the fact that his feet were probably hurting.

Sighing, Marik fiddled with his knee-length tunic. Looking up, Marik was surprised to see that the master was stopping the horse, and reaching into the saddle bags. When the master had retrieved the items he had been looking for, he removed his long, scarlet cloak, revealing deeply tanned skin; even darker then Marik's own.

With a flap of cloth, and the stirrings of sand, the master laid out his red cloak, smoothing it out and placing the items-food, Marik noticed-upon the make-shift blanket. Rising up from his position, the master made his way to Marik, dark eyes leveling with Marik's own lavender orbs.

The blonde boy watched as his Master reached out large hands, clasping them about Marik's waist, and pulling the boy off of the black horse. Marik made a small noise, and placed his hands on his master's shoulders.

"Master, why're we stopping?" Marik questioned as he was set down onto the large cloak. Despite his questions, Marik wasted no time settling down on the fabric, and even went so far as to lay down and press his nose into the coat, smiling as he smelled his master's scent.

"I told you to quit calling me that!" The master barked, eyebrows knitting together as he glared down at the happy little child. "I'm not your master. I'm Touzouku Bakura, so call me by one of those names!"

Marik frowned, and watched as Bakura swept a hand through his grey hair, eying the smaller boy before him angrily. Shrugging, the young boy reached quickly for the food, not even pausing to ask his master. Bakura neither encouraged or reprimanded him, and merely watched as the boy began eating the bread lay out before them.

Bakura sat down beside him, strong arms crossing across his broad chest as he watched Marik eat, stormy eyes not leaving the boy that he'd saved about three years ago. Sighing, Bakura grabbed a slice of bread, and absently began to eat it.

Honestly, Bakura didn't know what he was going to do with the boy. He'd kept him around this long, true, but he needed to pawn the kid off somehow. Bakura simply could not have a child. He was living a life of anger, hatred and revenge. He had no room for a little blonde boy.

Rubbing at his chin, Bakura supposed that this would be one of the last times he spent alone with the kid, if he got luck upon visiting the next town, which is why he'd stopped to do this little 'picnic'. Switching to rubbing at his crinkled brow, Bakura remembered the first time he'd seen the kid...

_ "C'mon, Kanika!" Bakura urged the mare, "just a little bit farther! We lost those guards, but we need to make sure we're completely safe." It didn't even phase Bakura's mind that he was talking to a horse. No, he'd been alone for much to long to ever bother with things like that. Talking to Kanika helped keep him remotely stable._

_ Pushing his horse harder, he stormed through the desert, grinning at his genius. The guards may have been persistent, but they would never follow Bakura out this far, just to gain back some simple golden necklaces and wrist-clasps._

_ Looking back at his saddle-bags, he relished in the sound of the clinking jewelry back there. Really, that stall-owner had deserved it. He completely left his stand un-watched, going off to entice some whore with his money._

_ Chuckling and shaking his head, he shifted his gaze back in front of him, only to let out a sharp cry as he saw a boy's head suddenly appearing from within the sand, a trap-door rising up above him as he revealed a secret tomb. Jerking hard on the reins, he heard Kanika snort loudly, hooves sliding in the sand as she ground to a halt._

_ The boy, a small, tanned blonde, gazed wide-eyed up at the Thief King, bewilderment evident upon his face. His small hand stayed clasped around the handle of the door, and his eyes stretched even wider as Bakura hopped down off of his horse, moving towards the boy._

_ The blonde let out screech, and lurched up from the hole, the trap door smacking closed behind him as he turned to race away into the desert. Bakura thought nothing of it, until he saw that blood was seeping through the boy's clothes. Memories flashed through Bakura's mind; bringing back memories of watching his family being beaten and killed._

_ Gritting his teeth, Bakura raced after the boy, chasing him down. He grasped the boy's wrist, pulling the blonde in close until his head thumped against Bakura's chest. A sharp cry of pain erupted from the smaller one's lips, but Bakura paid it no heed, and instead peeled the boy's tunic away from his body, pushing the naked boy face first into the sand as he stared at his scarred and freshly cut back._

_ "Lemme go! Lemme go!" the small boy screeched, attempting to wriggle free from Bakura's grasp. "I need to get away!" He began sobbing now, tears dying the sand a different color as he writhed about. "He'll get me! He'll get me!"_

_ "Who will get you?" Bakura snarled, tired of all this. He just wanted answers, and he wanted them now._

_ "Daddy!" was the answer he received. "Daddy'll get me!" The boy began writhing and his sobs grew harder as he struggled more and more in Bakura's grasp._

_ "I can take you away," Bakura stated, without thinking. The boy froze in Bakura's grasp, and craned his neck, showing red puffy eyes, a swollen nose, and tear-stained cheeks to the thief. Bakura regretted his words, but knew he couldn't leave an innocent to be hurt. If he did that, he'd be no better then the Pharaoh._

_ "You'll... You'll take me away?" the child whispered, and Bakura relinquished his grasp on the boy. Instantly, the boy rolled over, staring imploringly up at Bakura with wide, lavender orbs._

_ "I... Yes," Bakura grunted._

_ The boy's eyes widened, and a goofy smile spread over his face. Rising upwards, small arms wound around Bakura's neck, and fluffy blonde hair pressed against his nose, tickling his nostrils._

_ "You're like a prince in the stories!" the boy gushed in a light voice, "my name is Marik by the way. What's your name, master?" Marik released Bakura then, flopping back onto his bottom and reaching for his tunic._

_ "Don't put that on yet," Bakura snapped, grabbing the tunic from Marik's grasp. "Your wounds need to be cleaned, and putting dirty clothes back on will make them worse. And my name is Bakura."_

_ After that, Bakura had scooped the blonde child into his arms, and placed him atop Kanika, giving the child the scarlet robe he wore so as to hide his nakedness and protect him from the wind as they rode far, far away from Marik's home._

-(-o-)-

Bakura sat there now, watching as Marik ate the bread, occasionally shooting smiles to Bakura; his savior and 'master'. The thief saw the golden neck and wrist bands that Marik wore glistening in the sun, and Bakura smirked as he remembered that he had given Marik those, since he had stolen them just before meeting Marik. It had seemed appropriate. They were the whole reason, after all, that Bakura had even ran into Marik.

"You going to eat?" Marik questioned, pushing a piece of bread into Bakura's face, waggling it tantalizingly as he moved his eyebrows up and down on his fore-head, making a silly face and prompting Bakura to take a bite.

"You're an idiot," Bakura snarled, but took the piece of bread regardless, chomping down on it and chewing it slowly, swallowing and allowing the food to hit his stomach. Sighing, he watched Marik finally grow tired of eating, and instead opted to plop down on the cloak.

Marik's legs rose into the air, revealing the soles of his shoe to Ra. Slowly, the boy began to make them go in circles, making horses noises as he pedaled his legs. Bakura resisted the urge to laugh as he watched the goofy child.

Pausing, Bakura remembered that he was going to get rid of Marik soon. This time, for sure. He couldn't bring this small boy into his plans that might fail. He couldn't have Marik killed, or left alone once Bakura was gone. If, by some miracle, Bakura survived, he would come back for the child. But, until then, Bakura needed to know that the boy wouldn't be affected by anything that the thief did.

So, he was definitely going to make this time special, doing things he'd never done before. Cleaning up the food, Bakura moved back to Marik, who was still pumping his legs in the air, occasionally whinnying.

"Marik," Bakura barked, not even realizing how harsh his voice sounded. Marik, however, didn't mind. He was used to Bakura's rough words and ways of speaking. "Do you want to fly like Ra, high in the sky?"

Marik perked up at this, and immediately sat up, focusing in on the grey haired man sitting beside him. "Of course I would," the blonde stated, as if it were the most simple fact in the world. Bakura gave a short nod, before lying down on his back, causing Marik's brow to scrunch up in confusion.

"Come here," Bakura commanded, and Marik did as told. Bakura lifted his legs up, curling his knees inwards so they hovered over his stomach. Lifting up his hands, Bakura splayed out his fingers. "Take my hands." Marik leaned forward, interlacing his fingers with the thief's. Marik let out a noise of surprise as he felt his feet being lifted up into the air by Bakura's knees.

Soon, he was hovering over-top Bakura, staring down into the face of the thief as he was rocked back and forth, pretend flying. With a large, goofy grin spread across his small face, Marik tilted his head upwards, laughing as Bakura pretended to fly him around. Eventually, Bakura's hands strayed to Marik's chest, grasping the boy so that Marik could spread his arms out like a bird, occasionally flapping as he laughed and squawked. He was sure he even saw Bakura smile a few times!

Bakura's arms gave out, though, and Marik flopped down onto the thief's chest, where he snuggled up to Bakura, arms latching around his neck and pushing his face into the thief's neck, wanting more then anything to have the closeness of a father that he didn't receive from his own.

"I love you, Bakura," Marik whispered, clutching the gray haired man tight.

Bakura didn't answer, and just let his hand linger atop Marik's blonde head, enjoying his last night with Marik.

-(-o-)-

Bakura rode Kanika into town, feeling his mood slightly dimmed. He would rather have walked, but whenever they'd set off, Marik had fallen asleep. So, Bakura had hopped into the saddle, keeping one arm around Marik's waist and holding the small boy to him, keeping him atop the horse.

Staring down at the sleeping face, he knew that he was going to miss the small boy. Sighing, he focused on his task. Riding into town, he gave Kanika to one of the barns that held horses for their owners. He held Marik by putting his fore-arm beneath the boy's bottom, and holding one hand against the boy's shoulder-blades. Marik stayed asleep through it all, his mess of blonde hair streaming over Bakura's crimson-clad shoulder.

As they strode down the street, he saw many women stopping to coo at the sleeping Marik, pointing to their husbands and expressing wants. Bakura frowned. If he tried to pawn Marik off to people like that, they'd be disgusted, and send him away.

Groaning, Bakura wondered how and where he'd start.

"Bakura," came Marik's sleepy voice, and the boy slowly awoke, rising up to stare sleepily into Bakura's stormy eyes. "Are we in the town now?" Bakura didn't dignify the question with a response, and instead grunted and nodded.

As they passed a few houses, Bakura watched as a raven-haired woman exited her home, a dark-skinned, black ponytail-wearing man following behind her. The woman began rattling off supplies. She turned slowly, dress whirling about her ankles, and let out a sharp screech when she saw Bakura and Marik.

Bakura watched Marik's eyes widened, and his grip on Bakura tightened slightly. Marik made a noise in the back of his throat, and he stared at the woman, who was staring back, tugging frantically at the dark-skinned man's cloak, despite the fact that he was already looking.

"Marik!" The woman finally breathed, and rushed forward, looking like a psycho. Out of impulse, Bakura tightened his grip about Marik, and curled inwards, backing away, protecting the boy from harm. The woman slowed her approach, and froze, one hand extended and waving pathetically at Marik.

"Isis," Marik finally whispered, and Bakura could only blink in surprise as Marik lurched away from Bakura's grasp, rushing towards the woman. Bakura stared, dumbfounded, at where Marik had been.

"Oh, Marik, sweetie! My brother! Oh Gods!" Isis cried, brushing at Marik's hair and kissing his fore-head and cheeks, pressing her brother's face into her bosom, crying all the while. Tears poured down her cheeks, and Bakura watched as the ponytail-man strode over to Isis, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around both of the crying siblings.

"Isis!" Marik choked, pulling away, eyes puffing up and nose dribbling with snot. "Oh, Isis, I missed you!"

"What happened to you?" Isis mumbled around shaking lips. "Father's dead now, so Odion and I left but... We could never find you! We thought you were dead!" the woman's voice rose in pitch from hysteria, and her hands clasped Marik's cheeks in a way that, to Bakura, looked almost painful.

"I was saved, after father whipped me that final time..." Marik's voice trailed away, and Marik pulled himself from Isis's grasp, and moved over to Bakura, hugging the still confused man's leg. "I was saved by Bakura, my prince and master. He did just like in the stories, Isis! He showed up on his horse and carried me away from all my pain..."

Isis stared blearily up at Bakura, and rose shakily to her feet. "You saved our brother... Thank-you so much... But... We want him to live with us now."

Bakura flinched, just a little, at those words. Yes, that was the reason for him coming, but those words still hurt. Still ripped him apart. But he'd never show that. Marik was staring up at him, a smile lighting up his face.

"That's fine. C'mon, Bakura! We can live with Isis and Odion! We'll be together... Forever!" Marik cried excitedly, jumping up and down as he grasped Bakura's hand, attempting to pull the grey haired man towards his sister, but failing miserably. Turning around to face his savior, Marik frowned. "Bakura?"

"Marik... I'm leaving you here. I won't keep living with you. You will stay with Isis," Bakura growled the words, and removed his hand from Marik's.

The blonde boy's eyes widened, and they shimmered with more tears. "I... I don't-" but then Bakura was on his knees, hugging Marik close to him. He was snarling as he did so, and he hugged Marik a little too roughly, but it was the most someone like him could manage.

"Marik... Don't make this hard. Stay here, with your sister and brother," Bakura rumbled into the boy's ears. "Your master commands it." At those words, he felt Marik melt into submission, and he felt small, slender arms wrapping around his large frame as Marik returned the hug.

Finally, they broke apart, though, and Bakura stepped away from the boy.

"This is good-bye, Marik," Bakura said simply, not betraying any emotion he felt. Isis bit her lip, and called out a hesitant thank-you, but Bakura tuned her out, focusing instead on the trembling lip, and crying lavender eyes of the boy he'd grown to like.

"We'll... We'll meet again, won't we?" Marik whispered. "You're... You're my prince, my savior... Even if it takes a hundred reincarnations... We'll meet again, right Bakura?"

Bakura grimaced, and turned away. "Yeah, Marik... We'll meet again."

-(-o-)-

**Why didn't Marik stop for Isis and Odion when Bakura rescued him: He was a little kid. He wasn't thinking about that.**

**I'm seriously disgusted at myself for getting sad whilst writing this.**

**Okay... So, I got a few reviews on a certain story, about people voting for Citronshipping, because they wanted to see me write something other then Thief. I actually got a few messages doubting my ability to write anything other then Thief, and that slightly hurt, so I'm going to be messing around with different couples.**

**Oh yes, on the Citronshipping anyways:**

**As far as Citron-shota goes, I'm not a fan of it. At all. Whenever I see Citron-shota, I just imagine Bakura as a type of father/uncle/big brother thing, thus this. Even in pictures where he's kissing Bakura on the cheek or something. I think other people do things like that. I, personally, don't even hug my dad, but my friend does, and even kisses her's on the cheek, so I'm going to assume that's more 'normal'.xD**

**Anyways, please review!**

**See ya!**


	14. Chapter 14: Love Me

**Love Me**

**Warnings: Death, something else but if I put it here it ruins a part of the story, implied sex, and mentions of Tendershipping, Thiefshipping, and Deathshipping**

**Rated: M**

**Characters: Ryou Bakura, Yami Marik **(Mariku)**, Yami Bakura and Marik Ishtar**

"Good morning, Marik!" Ryou chirped, rising steadily from beneath the covers to stare into his bed-mate's lavender eyes. Marik, however, didn't respond, just stared slack-jawed up at Ryou, body limp and still. Ryou made a pouting face.

"You really should stop sleeping with your eyes open, Marik! It scares me sometimes, and you know it!" Ryou laughed, before turning to his right, and staring at the other person who shared his bed.

"Bakura, do you happen to be awake?" Ryou queried, prodding the white haired man laying beside him. Bakura offered no response, either, and merely flopped a little bit from Ryou's poking, scarlet eyes gazing at the ceiling.

"Honestly! Both of you!" Ryou admonished, before leaning over and kissing Bakura. As he moved his lips against the albino's, he began softly brushing Bakura's hair away from his face, moving his hand softly across Bakura's cheek, reveling in the softness of his yami's skin, but wincing slightly at the sheer coldness of it.

Lifting his head up, Ryou smiled happily down at the man laying beneath him, before shifting his brown eyes to Marik's body.

"I better quit. We all know how jealous Marik gets. Especially since I know we get a bit... carried away," Ryou purred into Bakura's ear, rubbing his hips against the albino. "Well! I'm off to make breakfast then!" Ryou leaped up from the bed, nightgown**(1)** swishing about his knees as he pushed his feet into some slippers and made his way into the kitchen.

"Mariku's visiting today!" Ryou called over his shoulder as he hurried into the kitchen, beginning to make pancakes. All the while he hummed a little tune, waiting for the pancakes to finish. He even made bacon and sausage, going full-out for his current boyfriend. Bakura understood though; sometimes one man wasn't enough. That's why Bakura had Marik.

At that thought, Ryou let out a strangled noise and tightened his grip on the now food-covered platter. Yes, it had been a surprise when Bakura had told Ryou that they needed to break up, because Bakura had found Marik. Ryou hadn't believed him, of course, but then he'd caught them.

Together.

Ryou slammed the plate down, gripping his head and making pitiful mewling noises. He remembered that day. Ryou had gone over to deliver some of Marik's favorite cookies. When he'd knocked, nobody had answered the door, but he heard noises. Curious, and a bit worried about burglars, Ryou had peered into the window, just to see Marik riding Bakura.

Ryou punched the wall this time, crying out in pain as he felt blood trickle down between his knuckles, dying a part of his wall that ruby color that Ryou had become acquainted with.

Biting his lip, Ryou savagely shook his head, sending white particles of hair streaming everywhere. He was okay with it now. Marik no longer had sex with Bakura; only Ryou did, so it was okay... It was okay...

Pushing his bangs away from his face, Ryou went to go get dressed, putting on his usual striped t-shirt and jeans. He paused at the doorway, though, and turned backwards, eyes narrowing as he looked at Marik and Bakura.

"You know what, I think Marik should go sit by himself," Ryou stated loudly, voice rising in pitch so badly that it actually cracked. Rubbing at his throat, Ryou hurried over to Marik, and dragged him out of the bed. "Honestly, Marik, wake up!" the whittete admonished, and dragged Marik over to the corner, where he tossed the Egyptian unceremoniously to the floor.

Huffing angrily, Ryou stomped over to the bed, where he paused to stroke Bakura's cheek once more, a shaky smile working over his face as he leaned down and kissed the cold lips of the spirit, slipping his tongue into Bakura's open mouth and moaning as he straddled Bakura's waist, grinding against the spirit. Lifting his head up, Ryou cast a cold smirk in Marik's direction, purposefully moving his hips one more time.

The doorbell rang, though, and Ryou quickly jumped off Bakura and raced from the room, slamming his bedroom door behind him and rushing to the front door. Jerking it open, he smiled up at the man leering down at him.

Mariku stood there in all his glory, tank-top tight against his well toned chest, and showing Ryou everything that he could've ever wanted to see. The blonde's hair rose haphazardly above his head, wagging slightly in the breeze, framing his tanned face, and fluttering across his narrowed blue eyes and twisted smile. The veins in his face bulged momentarily as his jaw tightened, before he moved into the house, not even bothering to wait for Ryou's permission.

The whittete didn't care, and just shut the door behind him, following behind Mariku and watching the man as he strode into the kitchen, plopping down on top of one of the stools at the bar. Reaching over, Mariku immediately began eating, stuffing food into his mouth and glaring at the table, not even bothering to speak to Ryou.

Ryou acknowledged this, and went to go light a fire in his fire-place, warming up the place a bit.

When that was done, he made his way over to the bar, sitting on the stool opposite his boyfriend, watching Mariku as the man ate his food. He had called ahead to tell Mariku that he could have breakfast here, and the blonde had agreed. Smiling happily, Ryou began kicking his feet, silently waiting for his boyfriend to finish his meal.

When Mariku was done, he sat back, watching as Ryou reached a hand across the bar, placing his smaller one atop Mariku's. Cold eyes watched uncaring as Ryou traced a pattern across his knuckles.

"Ishizu and Odion are still looking for Marik," Mariku confided, voice showing indifference. "They're fools. He's been missing for five years now." With a snort, he narrowed his eyes, watching as Ryou gave a nervous bark of a laugh.

"Yeah. I'm glad Bakura has never left me," Ryou replied, giggling slightly as he placed his hand over his mouth. Mariku froze, and let his gaze flicker over Ryou's frame, watching as the smaller boy's eyes glistened with some unknown secret.

"Ryou," Mariku rumbled, "Bakura's gone too. He's been gone for the same amount of time as Marik's been." The blonde said this all savagely, almost hoping that Ryou would cry, so Mariku would get to see that beautiful soft, sweet face crumble from the truth.

Ryou didn't cry, and merely cocked his head, a nervous, choking sound coming from between his lips.

"Silly me," Ryou whispered, "you're right. I forgot... I forgot... Ahahaha." White fingers fled Mariku's hand, and instead began gripping white bangs, tugging furiously at them as chocolate brown eyes switched rapidly from the table to Ryou's bedroom.

Mariku frowned. He'd wanted to see Ryou cry. That was the only reason he'd even gotten with the small boy; that and boredom. If you went out with somebody, you could make them cry in ways that nobody else could. So far, though, Ryou proved to be stronger then Mariku had initially thought.

A slow grin spread over his face, though, as he stood up, knowing full and well how to make the little hikari cry. Moving over, he positioned himself behind Ryou, wrapping his hand around the boy's small waist. Ryou giggled, and leaned backwards, kissing Mariku on the cheek.

"You've been wanting to be fucked for a while," Mariku muttered into Ryou's ear, licking the shell of it as his hands groped the front of Ryou's pants, making the boy hard.

"Mm, yeah," Ryou moaned, partially because of the good feeling, and partially because it was true. Mariku hadn't had sex with Ryou yet, no matter how many times the boy dropped hints. Mariku had explained to Ryou that he wasn't interested in sex, and found such stupid human things boring, and that seeing a face twist in pleasure was no fun at all.

Not to mention, Bakura just wasn't pleasing Ryou here lately. It was getting tougher to get Bakura in the mood, and Ryou wondered if he was having erectile dysfunction, seeing as he just couldn't get hard anymore. Sighing, Ryou thought about how much he hated being the one to fuck Bakura, and tried to do it as scarce as possible. It just wasn't as fun, and Bakura was much to prideful to ever make a noise when Ryou slid into him.

Shoving those thoughts from his mind, however, Ryou focused on the fact that Mariku was hauling him up from his seat, and carrying him over to the couch, where he began licking and sucking in ways that Bakura hadn't done in years.

Ryou moaned, shrieked, and thrashed about, loving all the feelings that Mariku was giving him. And when they finally lay together, spent, curled up on the sofa, Ryou confided in Mariku that he was a thousand times better then Bakura, and kissed the tanned man passionately.

"Well," Mariku said, extracting himself from Ryou's grasp. He moved over to his clothes and began tugging them on, as Ryou sat and watched, confused. Mariku was even putting his shoes on.

"Mariku?" Ryou questioned softly, voice curious as he watched the blonde tugged on his last shoe. Mariku leaned over, a vicious smirk on his face as he brought himself nose to nose with the small whittete.

"Did I forget to tell you? I'm leaving you," Mariku stated, pulling back and watching as Ryou's face twisted with pain and anger. The blonde merely let out a deep chuckle, which rose into his high-pitched laughter as he saw Ryou lurch up from his seat. Not even thinking about the boy anymore, Mariku began heading towards the door.

He paused, however, when he heard the clank of metal. Turning around, he saw that Ryou had pulled his clothes on, and had grabbed the poker that rested beside his fireplace. Frowning, Mariku moved towards the boy, watching as Ryou poked the metal stick about in the flames, humming a happy song as he did so.

Mariku didn't like that. Ryou should be hurt. Sad. Angry. Anything but happy.

"What're you so happy about?" Mariku demanded, glaring angrily down at the boy.

"I'm just happy to be getting a new room-mate," Ryou whispered, pulling the poker from the fiery depths and turning towards Mariku, a sweet smile plastered across his face.

"Wha-"

Mariku's question was abruptly cut off, however, as Ryou's hand shot out, diving the fire poker deep into Mariku's stomach, clapping his hand over the psychotic yami's mouth. Still smiling, Ryou drove the poker deeper, muffling Mariku's screams as the poker made its way all the way through his body, finally pushing out of his back, surfacing and waving to the world as Ryou twisted, turned, and waggled it back and forth, still smiling viciously down at Mariku.

-(-o-)-

Ryou strode into the house, smiling happily as he kicked off his shoes and made his way into his bedroom, where he saw his three bed-mates, all one beside the other. Striding over, Ryou hopped onto the bed, crawling on top of Mariku and delivering a kiss to he and Bakura, and hugging Marik.

Straddling Mariku's waist, he smiled down at the man's glassy eyes before running his hand slowly up Mariku's abdomen, pausing to poke at the new hole in his bed-mate's chest.

Making a tsking noise, Ryou fingered the edge of it for a moment.

"Really, Mariku, I wish you'd tell me where this scar came from!"

-(-o-)-

**So, for all of you who were sick of Mariku being a twisted, asshole-fucktart in these one-shots; here's vengeance. (**For Ryou it's personal. He had nightmares because of Mariku! xD**)**

**On that note: Marik and Bakura were embalmed by Ryou (**yes, a normal person can do it. I actually found online this whole, descriptive mess about how to do it... That worries me. Anyways-**) so that's why they hadn't decayed and stuff. It's true that even somebody who's been embalmed can decay and rot, there's also a possibility that, with proper care and temperature, they can last for decades. (**Yeah, I re-searched, dammit!**)**

**... I'm officially a sick fuck. Ha...Ha... Yeah... Well, there're two things that are coming next. I know I said I was gonna fuck around with pairings, AND I AM, but I have to think of stories, and it's weird imagining Marik and Bakura with anybody but each other (**yeah, I'm one of those one-shipper people.**) so... Yeah.**

**BUT! there's going to be something sad(**er**) next, and another fluff story... I just wanted to do something sick and twisted again, because these one-shots have had enough fluff for a while. Heh...**

**Anyways!**

**Please review! They make me oh-so-happy.**

**Seeya!**


	15. Chapter 15: Shipping Collection

**This is a compilation of random ass shippings that I couldn't think of whole stories for. Get ready for some serious just... Crazy ass shit.**

**Eyeshipping (Yami no Bakura x Pegasus)**

**I... I didn't know this was a real shipping... FUCK IT! I said I'd do weird ships!**

**-(-o-)-**

"Come now," Bakura purred into the silver-haired man's ear, even going so far as to brush it back. Leaning forward, Bakura pushed his knees outwards, allowing his thighs to slide along Pegasus's own.

"I just want _that_," Bakura muttered, lips lowering themselves to leave velvety soft kisses along the golden rim of the Eye. Pegasus grumbled something, and was clearly against this idea. Bakura grumbled something angrily, and began threading his fingers through the man's hair, clearly resisting the urge to rip it from his skull.

"Leave, now, Ryou-boy," Pegasus commanded. "I've realized now that you can not ease the broken feelings for my Cecelia." The red-clad man stood up, Bakura falling from his lap to land ungracefully upon the floor.

He felt a bubble of anger rise up inside of him. How dare Pegasus! How dare that stupid, pompous man agree that if Bakura put on a show for him, then he would be delivered the Eye, just to take back his word!

Letting out a viscious snarl, Bakura rushed forward, grasping Pegasus's broad shoulder. The flamboyant man let out a surprised cry, that was short lived as Bakura's hand plunged towards his face, nails digging deep into the skin as he ripped apart chunks of flesh, sending blood splattering across the walls.

Cackling maniacly, Bakura delved deeper, fingernails ripping themselves from their point deep in his skin as he continued on. Ripping backwards, he finally reached the end of the Eye's cavity, and could feel the moist wetness of the coils of brain residing within Pegasu's skull.

Grinning, Bakura lowered his lips to where Pegasus's golden eye used to live. His tongue slithered from between his lips, and he lapped greedily at the blood still pooling in the hole. Smirking visciously, he kicked Pegasus's corpse away from him, and strode out of the room, whistling happy.

One Millennium Item down...

-(-o-)-

**Evilshipping (Yami no Marik x Yami no Bakura x Rebecca)**

**When in doubt, just pedophilate things.**

"You Mr Kitty," the little blonde girl commanded, grasping a pale hand that she continued to lead him over to a chair, "are going to sit right here!" Bakura made as if to argue, but one look at the villainous teddy bear sitting across from him made him halt in his tracks.

The blonde, pig-tailed girl before them, Rebecca Hawkins, was an annoying little twit at the least. However, Bakura and Mariku were here, not for the girl, but for the little teddy bear she kept constantly at her side, dubbing him Teddy.

Teddy was sitting there in his pink chair, looking absoulutly harmless. Bakura knew better, however, and could feel the evil practically oozing from Teddy' stuffing. Bakura would've just rathered to come in, knock out the girl, and take her Teddy. Mariku had wanted to use the chainsaw, but Bakura had denied him such pleasures.

Both of their plans had proven futile so far, however, seeing as the little girl was apparently not to be harmed. It seemed that everytime either of them made even the slightest of movements towards her, that the little black button eyes gleamed brightly, and it was just automatically known that Teddy was watching.

Bakura was now just waiting for him to speak.

"You, Mr. Porcupine," Rebecca's voice grated across Bakura's ears, and he watched the little girl lead Mariku over to the table as well. The great, hulking yami certainly looked odd as he crouched resentfully upon a tiny, plastic chair.

"Mr. Porcupine," Bakura mocked.

"Shut your dirty whore mouth, pussy," Mariku growled loudly, clearly not happy with the way things currently were.

Bakura didn't mind, however. He was irritated, yes, but he could handle this. As long as he could get that Teddy...

"So Rebecca," Bakura purred, lips pulling up into what could've appeared to be a genuine smile, if not for the dangerous glint in his eyes. Rebecca paused and cocked her head at him, before giving an impatient sniff. She began messing around with empty kettles and tea-cups, all the while pissing Mariku off even more.

"So Rebecca," Bakura tried once more, giving a little more force to his voice, "we would like to have your Teddy." He expected screaming, crying, temper tantrums, along with the cacophony of the stomping of feet. What he did not expect, however, was for Rebecca to set down her little tea kettle, and give Bakura a wolfish grin.

"I know that," Rebecca replied in a snooty voice, "and I've come up with a price for you to pay!"

Mariku lurched forward at that, knees whacking against the table roughly as he lifted his large hands to wrap around her small, white neck. Bakura placed a hand on the Egyptian's forearm, however, and held him in place, nails digging roughly into tanned skin.

"We never said we'd pay," Bakura grumbled, eyeing the seemingly innocent girl. Perhaps he had been wrong. Teddy oozed evil, after all; who was to say that his evil ways hadn't pervaded the girl?

"But you will," Rebecca confirmed, wagging her yellow-topped head. "Teddy knows you will, because you want Teddy. All you have to do," she continued on, "is make me a woman."

"What?" Bakura questioned, arching an eyebrow. He was sure this little girl wasn't talking about sex. Mariku, however, seemed to have more doubts, and he openly eyed the girl curiously. No doubt the psychotic yami had no comprehensions of what sex was. After all, what sort of an emotion like pleasure had to do with the embodiment of a teenager's anger and hate.

"You need to kiss me!" Rebecca giggled, flouncing forward. "Teddy says that what makes girls grow big so that way they don't need Teddy's anymore!"

Ah, to the bear had been waiting for her adolescence. A smart plan, all in all.

"Bakura, I thought girls became women when they bled from their-"

"Shut up, Mariku," Bakura hissed, ignoring the blodne yami's smirk. Instead, he turned back to the girl before him. Rebecca was staring at him with a disconcerting gaze. Deciding to ignore it, he leaned forward, pressing his cold lips onto the girl's chubby cheek. When he pulled away, however, Rebecca looked incredibly disapointed.

"Teddy showed me a video on the internet," she informed them. "And that girl kissed the man and her foot popped! I want that! That'll mae me grown up!"

"Why don't you kiss Mariku, then?" Bakura spat, not really liking the idea of kissing a child. Rebecca ran an eye over Mariku, who quickly bristled beneath her gaze, clearly unhappy with this attention he was receiving. With a derisive snort, however, Rebecca turned back to Bakura.

"You look more like a handsome prince. He's like an ugly witch," Rebecca stated finally. After that was stated, she twirled around and hopped onto the little plastic table. Surprisingly it held her weight; only showing it by giving a small wobble.

"Now that I'm up here, you can come over here, scoop me up, and kiss me!" The girl exclaimed, standing up on tip-toe and pointing dramatically up towards the air. Bakura groaned and rose from his seat, legs stiff from being folded up.

"Fine, whatever," Bakura complained, ignoring Mariku's interested yet amused expression. Stepping closer to the little girl, Bakura placed his larger hands upon her hips, and scooped her up pausing to grimace as he swooped down, claiming her lips.

Mariku smirked, watching as Rebecca's foot popped.

Forwards.

-(-o-)-

**Anruishipping (Shaadi x Yugi)**

"You're crying," Yugi whispered, watching the older man's tears fall in crystaline drops down dark cheeks. Tentativly, he reached up, brushing his fingers against the smooth skin, allowing the pads of his thumb to swipe away the bothersome, clear beads.

"They weren't my tears," Shaadi reported, lowering his yellow gaze to lock onto Yugi, his voice staying deep and monotone as it always did, with his accent showing through just a hint. The star-haired boy nodded slowly, but didn't remove his hands from Shaadi's face.

The Egyptian seemed unperturbed by this, and in fact show no emotion in regards to whatever Yugi was doing, even when the diminutive boy allowed his fingers to trail down Shaadi's neck.

"Whose tears were they?" Yugi questioned, leaning up on his tip-toes as he felt his cheek burning with shame. He couldn't help it thought. This man, Shaadi, was intoxicating. On top of that, he seemed completely unbothered by Yugi's flirting antics, and made it all the easier for the amethyst-eyed boy to go about them.

"They were the Pharaoh whose name is no longer remembered**(1)**," Shaadi explained, still staying still and motionless.

"Oh," Yugi said in a quiet voice, eyes flickering downards to the Millennium Puzzle. The moment was shot, and Yugi lowerd himself back down, and away from Shaadi. Now was not the time to do this, he knew.

Sighing, Yugi fiddled with the chain about his neck, and focused back on the Pharaoh.

-(-o-)-

**(1)I couldn't remember what Shaadi really says so.. Uh.. Yeah. I just remember why this shipping got its name and all that.**

**Yay for stupid shit... Don't take any of these serious. They were little five minute derp-fests and probably have tons of errors because I don't give two shits enough to fix them atm.**

**I seriously just went the Master Shippers List on DA and just... Picked a few of the weirdest ones I could find.**


	16. Chapter 16: Reverse

Smirking to himself, Touzouku slid along the wall, back pressed into the ancient stones. He knew that nobody inhabited this tomb, but that didn't mean it was safe. Stepping gingerly along with his soft-soled shoes, the thief made sure to stop every step and feel the ground before him, making sure he didn't trip any wires.

"This is to easy," he muttered to himself, ending his trip down the passageway. Laying out before him was a large, dome-like room. The walls were engraved with ancient hieroglyphics, and gold was scattered about, winking in the torch lights.

Frowning, Akefia studied the little metal spires. They were fashioned to look like bird beaks, opening up their large maws to welcome the burning flames to reside upon their tongues. What Akefia was so unsure about, however, was the fact that they were burning.

He knew that scientists had developed coal that could burn for at least three years. But, to his knowledge, the family that lived here had all died of some sickness, about five years back. He didn't know how it was possible these torches were still running, then, but he knew he needed to get back outside to his brothers once more.

Lowering his silvery eyes, he focused in on the treasures and golden trinkets about. Grinning murderously, he moved forward, red robe snapping smartly behind him as he strode fully into the room. Reaching to the side of his sarong, he pulled out the bag that he'd tucked in there. With this gold, he and his brothers would be able to eat for months!

Letting out a deep and reverberating laugh, he hunched over and began shuffling the golden items inside. The pads of his fingers brushed against the various jewelry, before shoving them away. He only needed the coins right now. Later, he could come back with Bakura, and steal the rest.

Chuckling again at his brilliancy, Akefia only stopped when he heard a scuffling noise behind him. Narrowing his eyes, he tightened his grip on the bag, and slowly rose to his full height. Turning on his heel, he was confronted with a blonde boy, holding up a rather large, metal pipe over his head.

Suddenly, the boy's arms moved, and he was attempting to bring the pipe crashing down on Akefia's head. Touzouku lurched out, though, just as fast, and connected the giant bag of golden coins into the blonde's temple. The boy faltered, and made a groaning noise. The pipe slipped in his fingers, and dragged down Akefia's cheek.

Reeling back, the thief collapsed to the ground, eyes widening as he felt the blood pumping from his wound. His fingers moved against his cheek, slippery and wet as the heated blood coated his face and hands.

Gasping, he turned around, just as the pipe connected with his head, knocking him unconscious.

-(-o-)-

Akefia's eyelids fluttered open, and he attempted to jerk forward, only just then realizing that he was chained to a chair. A very nice and comfortable chair, though. The seat and back were cushioned with a beautiful indigo pattern, blossoming flowers showing up on where the buttons would go. The frame of it was golden, with patterns of Ra spreading his wings painstakingly carved into them.

Shifting slightly, the thief realized that his red robe had been taken, leaving him bare-chested. Grunting, he attempted to moved forward again, but was met by the straining of chains biting into his dark skin.

Speaking of pain, he could feel an odd type of pulsing coming from his cheek. With a spark of memory, he realized it was from that boy who had attacked him earlier. Letting out a vicious snarl, he rocked foward, managing to plant his feet on the ground. He had to find that boy and pay him back, even if it meant waddling.

The chair was heavier then he thought, but that wasn't really a problem. Akefia happened to be strong enough to handle something like this. If he could scale walls, he could hold a chair up with just his leg muscles.

Scuffling forwards, he inspected his surroundings. He was in a simple, darker room then before. It had a purple decorated bed off to the side, with satin pillows and everything. There were a few chests, but from what Akefia could see, all that resided within their wooden depths was clothes.

Huffing, he saw that a few pictures were pinned to the wall. One was of a beautiful woman with raven colored hair and startling lavender eyes. Beside her was another little girl, that could've been her younger sister, or daughter. A few pictures had a man with streaked grey hair and beard, and a stern expression, showing clear displeasure at being photographed. There was pictures of the blonde boy from before, too, often in the company of the raven haired woman, or a black man with a ponytail set at the base of his skull.

Watching the pictures, he could only assume that they were of the family that he had heard died in here. They were supposed to be protecting the treasures, but had contracted a disease that destroyed them all.

So why was that little blonde boy still here?

Shaking his head, Akefia decided he didn't care. That little brat was going to pay. Heading over to one of the chests, Touzouku peered inside, wondering if there was a knife in there. Usually, Akefia had knives on him, but he'd left them with his brothers for protection.

_His brothers..._

Akefia became even more frantic in his searching, even going so far as to dive his face into the clothes, nose moving them out of the way, not even pausing when his mouth was practically tasting the boy's underwear.

"What're you doing?" A voice demanded behind him, and all to suddenly he was jerked backwards. Akefia felt the chair being pulled, and so in turn his body went with it, slamming into the cushiony surface, and his neck bumping against the person behind him's fingers.

Akefia didn't answer the person, and instead glared angrily over his shoulder, spotting the boy from earlier. Now he was dressed in a lavender mid-riff, revealing a flat, toned stomach, and his arms were bare as well, revealing the boy had muscle. Golden bands were clasped tightly to his forearms and biceps, along with neck clasps and earrings. Black britches hung loosely around his hips, a blue belt held them in place.

The blonde sneered, and his brow wrinkled, nose squishing up. "That's disgusting. My underwear was in there." Moving past Akefia, the blonde began hurriedly folding things and placing them back in the chest, muttering something about how 'Isis would be ashamed'; whoever the fuck that was.

Grinning, Akefia saw the perfect opportunity. Lifting up a foot, he snapped it forwards, allowing his heel to connect with the boy's anus. Immediately, the younger one floundered, letting out a yelp as he was propelled forward, face slamming into the lid of the chest.

Jumping up from his seat, Akefia prepared to attack the boy, but he was stopped as a foot connected with his chest, successfully winding him. Staring down, he realized that the boy had managed to turn himself around, arms propping him up against the trunk's rim.

Falling backwards, Akefia felt the back legs of the chair hit the ground and rock, sending the grey haired man sprawling backwards, head connecting roughly with the stone floor. His mouth opened wide in a silent vocalization of pain, and he simply sat there, teeth gritted, as colors popped before his eyes.

He felt something grip the chair again, and he was jerked up right, staring into livid, lavender eyes.

"Why did you do that?-!" the younger boy hissed. Akefia snorted, and jerked savagely in the chair.

"You attack me, then ask why I kicked you in the ass?-!" Akefia barked, struggling more and more in his chair. "Fuck you, kid! Now release me so I can slit that throat of yours, and get back outside!"

At the word outside, the boy's expression morphed instantly, and his eyes widened just a bit. "I'm Marik, not kid," the blonde informed Akefia, before dropping down to his knees. Normally, Touzouku would've liked seeing someone on their knees before him, but Marik wasn't doing it out of defeat. No, no, he was doing this of his own volition; probably just tired or relieved.

"I couldn't give two shits about your name," Touzouku shot back, lifting a foot to possibly kick Marik again. The kid just snorted, and waved at his foot, eyes cautiously watching each and every movement the thief made.

"I'll make you a proposition," Marik said instead, and slowly rocked forwards onto his feet, dusting off his black britches. He gave a sly grin to Akefia, and strode closer to the grey haired man.

"Who says I'm willing to make deals?" Akefia snarled, attempting to look threatening as he bared his teeth, revealing sharp canines.

"I have you tied up," Marik replied simply. "And you have no reason to act so rudely to me." The blonde began circling Akefia, much to the prisoner's chagrin. He didn't like people doing things like this; he was a prideful being.

"I don't have a reason?" Akefia mocked, eyebrows drawing together as his lips pulled back into a sneer. "You attacked me, tied me up, and on top of all that, you _cut open my face_!" Akefia shrieked. "I have every right to be as pissed off, you annoying brat!" At this point, the thief began rocking back and forth in his chair, attempting to possibly break one of the legs, or hit the blonde.

Marik walked behind the chair, and placed his hands on it, however, causing it to stop its movement. Akefia let a growl rip itself from his throat, and he watched cautiously as Marik finally released him, and strode back before the thief.

"First of all, you were stealing from me. What was I going to do, let you leave here unharmed?" Marik questioned angrily, and ignored Akefia's sarcastic nod. "Secondly, yes I tied you up. You attacked me with my own gold! I couldn't trust you! And finally; yes, I cut open your eye. On accident. And, in my defense, I stitched it up and took care of it!" Marik seemed to be finished, and he leaned forward, prodding slightly at Akefia's cheek.

The thief moved to bite Marik's finger, but the blonde merely retracted it, and stood up straight once more. Twitching his mouth a little, Akefia could indeed feel the stitches straining against the skin, and realized that was what the throbbing was. It was that feeling of a healed wound. Scowling, Akefia glared up at Marik. He would never say thanks.

"So, on to my proposition," Marik continued, acting as if their momentary spat had never taken place. "I want you to take me into the outside world. The Surface." At those sentences, the blonde's eyes seemed to ignite with some type of hidden passion, and he even gazed longingly towards the door.

Akefia snorted and looked away. "Take your own damned self," the thief spat, not wanting to deal with this brat for any longer then he initially had to. Marik, however, seemed non-plussed by that answer, and puckered his lips.

"I can't," Marik responded. "I've never been to the surface. Ever." His voice sounded dry and hollow, but Akefia couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. "I wasn't allowed. And then, when my family died, I was to scared to explore. I don't know where anything is."

With that said, the boy's mood abruptly changed again, and he soon had his hands in Akefia's lap, nails digging slightly into the darker one's thigh. Letting out an agitated hiss, the thief watched as small beads of blood appeared from the broken skin.

"So, if you take me with you," Marik stated, a sneaky grin over-coming his face. Vaguely, Akefia recognized it as a smug I've-already-won-face, and this angered him. "I'll let you take all the gold that you can carry from this place."

At this, the thief's attention perked, and he eyed Marik warily.

"So," Akefia said slowly, "if I show you the Surface, you will allow me to steal all this gold, and I will be released?"

"I believe I just said that," Marik replied drily, clearly not happy about having everything repeated. "Now what's your name, thief?"

"You will call me by Touzouku," Akefia spat, eyes narrowing.

"Well, Touzouku? How does my offer sound?"

Akefia bit the inside of his cheek, and mulled it over for a moment. He saw a brief flash of his brothers' faces, however, and new instantly that he truly had no choice. He needed to return to his siblings, and on top of that this place was loaded with gold! So, despite the fact that he hated Marik being correct, he sucked in a large breath, and faced the exited child before him.

"You have yourself a deal, partner."

-(-o-)-

(This is like an AU in an AU, okay? xD)

**Okay so gaiz... This isn't **_**actually**_** a one-shot... This is kind of like... A 'preview' of sorts... This is a story that I wanted to do for Citronshipping/Thiefshipping. I'm still not quite sure which I want it to be... (**probably Citron**)Actually... I'm half tempted to turn this into another Rogueshipping thing... Or at least have the two Bakuras in it (**NO TENDERSHIPPING THOUGH, because in case you haven't realized yet, I hate that shipping with the utmost passion.**)**

**But I was TRYING to write a Citronshipping one-shot, and... I just don't know wtf was happening there but... Usually when I try to write Touzouku, I make him to fluffy... Touzouku's not fluffy...**

**But uh, yes it SEEMS like Tangled, but I promise I didn't realize that until AFTER I started thinking about it. I just noticed how everybody has Touzouku kidnapping Marik so~, I figured I try and be different. :D However, I'm starting a little on this, because it's the only thing that's not request-related that I'm working on... So uh... Yeah. As for the requests... I might do something like this, as a sort of 'preview', to get some feed-back before posting the actual 'story'.**

**Lemme know if you guys are interested! (**Yes, this is _slightly_ Shota... If I go with Citron. Only slightly. Marik's 16. Touzouku's 22. Not that bad. I'm not writing about eight year old rape or anything like that.**)**

**(**Oh my god I need to quit riding long A/N's! T~T**)**


	17. Chapter 17: Nameless

The cacophony of bird calls above halted Ryou in his tracks, causing a tender smile to splay across his lips as he watched Gods precious creatures flutter their way across the sky. Lifting a pallid, skeletal hand he pretended that he could caress their feathers from his lowly position upon Earth.

Stepping forward once more, he continued down the path towards the old, decrepit, abandoned church, chocolate colored eyes opened wide to the world as he studied the place of his memories. The chapel was a simple building, really. It wasn't anything fancy. Some, often times, though it was an old country school house.

Its walls had holes in them, showing where maggots had wormed their way in. Ryou was positive that the foundation was probably slowly crumbling away too. He was aware that any day now, this old church would fall and collapse, tumbling down atop the old graveyard nestled in the bosom of the property.

Sighing, Ryou fiddled with his long, soft white hair. It was a nervous habit of his, really, but he couldn't kick it. He supposed it was better the nail-chewing, however, or twisting his clothes about. After all, his long black Geneva robe needed to be immaculate and unwrinkled. His father, looking down on him from Heaven, would be completely disappointed if his son dressed less then his best.

Speaking of his father... Ryou continued forward, black shoes scuffing the grass as the tips of his robe dragged against the small blades of grass, making his way towards the small little graveyard; only consisting of three graves.

Tumbling to his knees before them, Ryou bit back the sobs that formed in his throat that somehow magically appeared every time he came near this establishment. Squinting his eyes shut, Ryou placed a hand upon his mother and father's grave, before cracking open an eye to settle in upon his deceased brother's tombstone.

Ryou knew that below him two bodies resided; one probably rotting through, and the other was merely ashes, he knew. The third body, however, had never been found. Making a choking noise, Ryou repented.

He was a damned sinner. Disgusting scum.

Shuffling across the grass, Ryou wrapped his thickly clad arms about the cracked tombstone. For all these eleven years he had lamented for the loss of his brother. For eleven years all he could think about was how he had failed his mother. He had failed everybody.

Grunting slightly, Ryou pressed his forehead against the cool stone, tears wetting the rigid surface. The whittete was sure his nose was dripping with snot, and he knew for sure that his lips were a trembling mess, and that his whole body was shaking from the deep sucking gasps that were being forced down his throat.

Letting out a pitiful sob, Ryou hugged the tombstone even tighter, before whispering;

"Bakura..."

-(-o-)-

Isis ran.

Her bare feet slapped the pavement in the most uncomfortable ways, but she didn't care right then. She was dragging two boys along with her, who both happened to be completely unconscious. Ragged breath fell from her tanned lips as she pulled the blonde boys along behind her.

Both were younger then her, but they already happened to be larger. Especially the one with wild-like hair sprouting all over his head like a porcupine. Grunting, she pulled out of her thoughts and focused harder on pumping energy and enthusiasm into her legs, and willed her fingers to stay tightly clasped about the tunics the two boys wore.

She turned down an alleyway, giving out a small cry as her foot slipped in some oil, causing her to go sideways as she slammed roughly into a wall. Her brother and his look-a-like slipped from her grasp, and she watched their motionless bodies tumbling away, both of them leaving bloody smudges whenever their back came in contact with the pavement.

"Dammit!" Isis cried, lurching forward and attempting to gather their bodies up. She didn't even really know what she was doing with them, or where she was taking them, but all that mattered was that they needed to get away from the corpse they'd left sitting at home.

"Come on," Isis muttered to herself as she hooked her thin arms beneath her little brother's arms. He was only ten, but yet he was already pretty heavy. Gritting her teeth, she realized how scratched up his feet and legs were, since she'd been basically dragging the two boys for this long.

Letting out a broken sob, she collapsed under her brother's weight, and just sat limply on the ground. She couldn't _do_ this. She was just a fourteen year old girl! She'd never done any weight lifting! Actually, her little brother was probably the heaviest thing she'd ever had to lift.

A breath rattled her ribcage, and she groaned at the stitch in her side. Gritting her teeth, Isis made a decision. Pressing her knees into the rough concrete, she grabbed her brother, lifting his dead-weight onto her back. She grabbed his arms and wrapped them around her neck as her hands found their way beneath his thighs.

Rising shakily, she felt her legs buckling from the weight, but she wouldn't stop now. Sucking in a deep breath, Isis rushed forward, knees locking together as her brother's body thumped uncomfortably against her back.

Her breath was short and fast as she sped forwards, leaving her brother's look-a-like behind. It was all that crazy-haired demon's fault anyways! Tears began to rivulet down her cheeks as she remembered the corpse; pale despite his tanned skin and cold despite the fact that his heart had pumped for moments afterwards.

Choking, sobbing, and breathless she still ran. Ran straight down the street, ignoring the strange looks that people gave her. But nobody stopped them, of course. That was a job for Heroes, which these people certainly weren't.

Racing towards an old abandoned church, she stopped and deposited her little brother in the grass, before dropping to her knees. Gasping, she lifted a hand to her chest, and tightened her fingers around the fabric. Dropping to the ground, she felt her heart constricting. Pressing her nose into the dirt, she muffled her breath, allowing her silent tears to hit the grass.

She felt her heart twist one more time, before she finally stopped breathing.

-(-o-)-

Ryou rose from his seated kneeling position, and steadied himself on his feet. With a jaw cracking yawn, he arched his back, long white hair flowing easily down his shoulders. Smiling softly, he turned around, and began walking away from the tombstones.

While he did not like the death of his family, he couldn't help but be pleased that he was able to visit them everyday, and speak to them. His Lord and Savior was truly blessing him with this lovely opportunity; especially with Ryou being such a sinner.

Stepping forwards, he paused, noticing that something that wasn't there before. Narrowing his eyes, Ryou turned just a bit, and spotted two lumps off to the side. Frowning, Ryou walked over to the motionless things, and discovered that they were children!

Eyes widening, Ryou fell to his knees, looking down at what was certainly a girl. She was face down, with her raven colored hair splayed about her head. Grimacing, Ryou reached down with pallid, timid hands, and wrapped his fingers about her waist, hoisting her up.

A trickle of vomit was evident, running from the corner of her mouth and continuing along her jaw-bone and jugular vein. With a pained look, Ryou reached down, hoisting up her dress enough to see that discharge had indeed happened.

Lowering the clothing back down, he instantly felt like a pervert. But there happened to be a lot of MEBs that could stop their pulses, or that could fake death. However, none of them could fake the discharge that happened when a body died.

Placing a hand over the small girl's chest, he muttered a prayer, hopefully sending her upon the path to God. Shifting over, he saw another child. This one was quite cut up and bruised, with sandy hair hanging about his darkly tanned face. His eyes were closed, so Ryou couldn't see the color. The boy looked to be about ten years old.

Biting his lip, Ryou saw that the boy was shirtless, wearing only a type of kilt hung loosely about his hips. Tremulously, he hoisted the kilt up, and saw that the boy was free of the yellow-ish substance. Sighing in relief, Ryou allowed his hand to flutter up to the boy's neck, checking for the pulse. It jumped happily beneath the pads of his fingers, and Ryou felt another wave of relief wash through him.

Rising up just a little bit, Ryou kept his knees, bent, and scooped the child up, pausing momentarily to realize that there was some type of... Carving there. Or bumps possibly. Ryou turned the boy slightly, doubling the child over at the waist so that the whittete could peer down into the bloodied mess that the other child's back had become.

"My God," Ryou whispered, staring at the intricately drawn patterns on the boys back. It was of the three ancient MEBs; Slyfer Draconus, Obelisk Torment, and the all powerful Ra Winegan! Breathing sharply, Ryou allowed the pads of his fingers to brush softly against the cut skin.

"I'll fix you up," Ryou whispered, setting the boy down. But, to his amazement, even as he watched, the wounds began to fix themselves. Judging by that, this wound must've been dealt less then two hours ago.

With another surprised intake of breath, Ryou slumped down next to the blonde boy, and merely watched.

-(-o-)-

Groaning, he held his head. Where was he? Why was he here? Who was he?-! Shuffling just a bit, he managed to shakily rise to his feet, letting out a small whimper as colors danced before his eyes.

Every breath he took seemed to rattle his entire body, and for some reason his back hurt the most. Stumbling backwards, he collided painfully with a brick building, letting out a cry from the stab of pain that erupted.

Wearily, he opened his eyes, colors popping angrily in his vision as he attempted to sort out where he was. He couldn't remember anything, though! All he knew was that he was standing in an old alleyway. There was a dumpster. And a cat. And a few boxes.

But none of that helped him.

Moaning, he twisted to the side a little, and pressed his forearm against the bricks. Staring down at his bare-chest, he realized that he was cold. His nipples had perked, and there was goose-flesh erupting everywhere on his body.

Making a strangled noise, he moved forward, teeth gritting together as he angrily strode on. Something kept flickering at the edges of his mind, but he couldn't quite yet grasp it. He didn't know where it came from, or what it was, but he knew it was a name.

_Marik Ishtar._

But it wasn't his name! He knew it wasn't! That was somebody else; though he couldn't quite pinpoint who exactly it was. Who was this elusive Marik Ishtar, and why couldn't he remember who that person was?-!

Sucking in a deep breath, he felt his irritation rise to a peak. Drawing back a fist, he slammed it into the ground, causing a mild eruption. Blinking in surprise, he felt pieces of debris break away from the ground, and speckle him with dust.

"I did that," he breathed, staring down at the now gaping hole in the concrete.

"Indeed you did," a voice purred from in front of him. Starting violently, he stumbled backward, only just now spotting the orange haired boy before him. The boy's hair was a frizzed mess that framed his soft face, eyes flashing dangerously as he clutched a little box in his hands tighter.

"Who are you?" he spat, voice rugged and dry from not speaking this whole time. The orange haired boy merely cocked his head, childish face sparking with even more glee.

"You can call me Imori. Or Damien Draco. I have two names, you see, because I have this Box." To show his point, Imori hoisted the box up higher. The other boy couldn't see what was so special about the box, though.

"What do you want with me?" He spat instead, voice still harsh, but slowly getting better, to where it didn't scrape his throat raw to utter a mere sentence.

Imori tsk-ed, but strode forward. "I want you to come with me. My master would be very pleased to meet _you_. What's _your _name, anyways?" At this, carrot-top paused, and watched the lost boy.

"I'm..." at this, he paused. He wasn't Marik Ishtar, that was for sure. So who was he? Frowning, he thought about the letters... Well, if he wasn't Marik Ishtar, then he'd just have to be the reverse. "I'm Karim Ratshi," he responded.

Imori snorted. "You have a stupid name. Now come with me... Someone with your powers could be useful to Master Pegasus..." Grinning ruefully, the smaller boy came up behind Karim, and gave him a harsh shove, sending the newly-named boy forward.

Karim couldn't think of a valid argument, and just nodded, his wild blonde hair wagging strangely above his head. After all, how bad could this Pegasus person be?

-(-o-)-

**Okay! So, this is a request for Annzy (**which, if you have not read her stories, you totally should, because she's a very good author, which is why I had a little nerd-squeal when I saw she requested this.)**Anyways... I kinda went just... Fuckin' crazy on this, so I hope she doesn't mind... Cuz... It was originally more simple then this: they had super-powers and shit and just...Yeah. Then I started writing out bios and I just fuckin' lost my ever-lovin' mind...  
><strong>

**Ryou: Ryou is supposed to be a big Catholic (**don't worry. He's not a homophobe, or anything stupid like that. He may not approve, but he's not being fucking stupid about it, either. He's being a true Christian and loving everybody**). The way his character is... I kind of based it off of Father Anderson. If you've ever seen/read Hellsing/Hellsing Ultimate, you know what I'm talking about. If not, don't stress it. The only difference is he's not all fucking crazy. He **_**is**_** slightly radical, but not in the "I'MA FUCKIN' BURN YOUR ASS YOU DAMNED SINNER!" So I think that would be where he differs. But other then that, it's just basically how he talks and acts. As for how he acts other then that: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE remember that Ryou is NOT as innocent as people make him out to be. He is a GROWN MAN in this story. He WILL BE 25, but he's currently 19...**

**Other then that, here's another preview~ Um... If I do any more 'preview' type things, they might take a while. Because I have like four or five other Thiefshipping requests, PLUS that Citron/Rogue thing, and I need to get back to writing on the three other stories going on.**

**(**If you want more info on what this story is about, you can look on my profile. A few other requests are on their too.**)**

**T.T**

**...Seeya...**

**Ya know what? I talked this much! Fuck it! One more thing to say:**

**If you haven't seen the Bakura x Duel Disk fanfic, you need too. Yes. I'm spreading this odd leaves-you-speechless fanfiction even more!**

**Now good-bye. :)**


	18. Chapter 18: Sound

**Sound  
><strong>

**Rated: ... Sort of T-ish**

**Warnings: Mentions of necrophilia and murder**

**Characters: Marik Ishtar and Yami Bakura  
><strong>

My lips trace your neck, nervous little laughs erupting from between soft lips as I ravage your neck. All of my fingers roam your body, and I just want to make you scream my name as I tweak your nipples, grasp your cock, and just all together pleasure you.

But you never make a sound.

Tears are stinging against the back of my close eyelids as I decide you need to suffer. I won't even use the lube. Growling angrily, I slam you to the ground and take you; making you mine.

But you never make a sound.

And then I'm crying because it's my fault. Your beautiful white features never-changing, and your scarlet eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. All I wanted was my name to leave your lips, for you to enjoy my company!

But you never make a sound.

So I'm left staring at the broken shell that has become you, and I know it's my fault. It's my fault because I snapped when I shouldn't have, and it's my fault because I should've stopped but I didn't. Though, thinking back, all I wanted was for you to say my name!

But you never made a sound.

And now, because of your stubborn ways, you never will.

-(-o-)-

**...**

**I honestly don't know.**

**But this was _almost_ a drabble... -Sigh-  
><strong>


	19. Chapter 19: Thiefshipping Thursday

**HAPPY THIEFSHIPPING THURSDAY**

**Warning: Blow-jobs, language, awkward awkwardness.**

**Rated: Um... M/T, depends on what you can take.**

**Characters: Yami Bakura and Marik Ishtar**

Birds chirruped merrily above as the light blue, periwinkle sky allowed the soft white clouds scud across its plane. It was a dreary, peaceful day, with the sun shining weakly enough to bring warmth to one's skin, but offering nothing that could be seen as a discomfort.

As it was, it completely went at odds with the scene occurring below.

Yami Bakura let out a sharp cry as he was shoved roughly onto Marik's motorcycle. He felt the machine tip precariously, but Marik just smirked, and clasped a hand on the handles, keeping it up right. Bakura's eyes narrowed, and he watched as Marik's muscular arms rippled from the strain that his face didn't show.

"So what're you planning to do, exactly?" Bakura questioned, lids slowly closing over his eyes as he gave Marik a startlingly innocent look. Bakura had gotten good at impersonating Ryou, so this was quite easy to do.

"I don't know," Marik purred, leaning forwards and bracing himself against the metal vehicle. His hand, not holding up the bike snaked its way around Bakura's waist, gripping the albino's almost non-existent ass. Bakura let out a slight snarl, though it wasn't one of anger, and he pushed upward, hips barely brushing the blonde's.

"You need to find out quick, before I take over," Bakura warned. True to his word, the Spirit snaked a leg around Marik's thighs, hoisting himself up, and twisting them around, pinning Marik against his own bike.

"Mm, who says I'd argue?" Marik chuckled, hoisting himself up onto the bicycle. Scarlet eyes watched as his ass settled down on the leather seats. In this new position, Marik's legs spread just a little bit, just to wrap around Bakura's waist and crush them together.

Lips attached hungrily to the Spirit's, and Bakura accepted them gratefully. Tongues tangled as he pressed Marik back. The blonde groaned, and held Bakura even tighter as he slipped his hands up his back. Bakura shuddered as he felt Marik's cold rings contrasting with his heated flesh.

"Gods," Bakura groaned, dropping lower to run his tongue across Marik's neck. He could only nip at the top though, due to Marik's annoying golden jewelry. He reached up to unclasp them, but was stopped by Marik's hand.

"My gold stays," Marik commanded, voice icy, along with his frosted eyes. Smirking, he watched as Bakura grew slightly irritated. "You know, my pants are tight, if you want to do something useful, for once," the blonde said in an off-hand voice.

"Fuck you!" Bakura spat, but dropped lower nonetheless. His nimble fingers immediately flew to Marik's pants buttons, undoing the britches and revealing Marik's cock. Arching a silver eyebrow, Bakura peered up at the grinning Marik. "Really? No underwear?"

"I didn't wear any back in Egypt," Marik explained, "I'm not wearing any now. Plus, I wax. It's not like my hair is getting caught in the fabric or zipper, right?" Shaking his head, Bakura decided not to question it.

Coaxing Marik's cock into the open, he watched Marik grow hard, giving teasing nips and licks, along with occasionally allowing the tip to enter his lips. Above him, he could see Marik's chest rising and falling in rapid-fire procession.

"Come on, dammit," Marik growled, raising a hand to knot his fingers within Bakura's silver strands. Chuckling, Bakura ran his tongue from tip to base, before finally allowing Marik's cock to enter his mouth. Humming in his throat, Bakura teased and sucked Marik off, until finally the blonde climaxed.

"Gods," Marik hissed, tossing his head back and letting a growl rip through his teeth. Releasing his hold on Bakura, he saw the albino sit back on his toes, running a tongue across his lips as he stared hungrily up at the Egyptian.

The blonde arose quickly, and hoisted Bakura up, stopping to stroke the front of the whittete's britches, smirking as he realized that the Spirit was already quite hard. Bakura's knees went slightly weak, and he sagged sideways in Marik's arms.

"Ah, ah, ah," Marik taunted, releasing him and allowing the albino to stagger over to the bike. He knew what Marik wanted, and he was certainly willing. Hoisting himself up, the paler of the two positioned himself atop the bike, legs spreading wide.

"Come at me, then," Bakura purred, voice deep and rich. Marik consented, and dipped low, undoing Bakura's buttons, and opening his boxers up just a bit. And Bakura bared himself, already completely hard, to his lover. Marik leaned down, and took the albino in his mouth immediately, causing Bakura to cry out and start slightly from the feeling that coursed through him.

That little start, however, made the bike rock. And, seeing as Marik's hands weren't currently gripping the handles, the bike tipped backwards. Marik's eyes widened and he quickly pulled away from Bakura.

"Shit!" Bakura yelped as he went reeling backwards, head smacking the concrete as the bike fell to the ground behind him. Groaning, he attempted to push away from the bike, but found that he was hurting quite a bit from the fall, not to mention Marik had bitten him slightly in his attempt to get away.

"Fuck, Marik!" Bakura spat, "you couldn't even help me?" The albino finally gathered the strength to at least push himself up onto his elbows, allowing him to peer over his knees at Marik, who was currently on the ground, laughing.

"Holy shit!" Marik cackled, holding his stomach as large guffaws erupted from his mouth. "Your face!" Snarling, Bakura watched as Marik rid himself of his laughter. Actually, looking back, this was the first time Bakura had ever seen Marik truly 'laugh'. What the Spirit always saw was a demonic chuckle, or a sarcastic snicker. Hell, Marik hardly ever 'smiled', unless it was for unpure reasons.

Resisting the urge to grin himself, Bakura found he didn't quite mind seeing this side of the Ishtar so much. Sighing, the albino finally extracted himself from the bike, and managed to crawl over to the blonde.

His shoulders ached, but he was still pretty hard. As he drew closer, he attempted to engage Marik in another kiss. But, as soon as he tried, Marik closed his lips tight and burst into giggles. Rising up, he left the albino sitting, disgruntled, on the concrete alleyway.

"Oh, jeez, Bakura," Marik snorted, heading over to his bike.

"Aren't you going to finish?" Bakura barked, rising up from his seated position, watching as Marik's muscled body hoisted his bike up. Lavender eyes turned to regard Bakura, before the Egyptian broke into even more laughter.

"You just fell during a blowjob and crashed my bike!" he exclaimed. "I'm not finishing anything. I'd be laughing to much, and that's not sexy," the blonde defended himself. Zipping and buttoning his pants, Marik straddled his bike.

"You- I can't-... WHAT?-!" Bakura snarled, hurrying to zip and button his britches as well. It ached to confine his erection again, but he supposed he didn't have much of a choice. Glaring angrily at the blonde, he watched Marik give him a considering look.

"What?" Bakura questioned, a hope just barely creeping into his tone.

"I was just wondering, if maybe I could do it, anyways," Marik pondered, fiddling with his motorcycle. Bakura stepped forward, attempting to hide his excitement.

"Yes, yes you can!" Bakura encouraged, flashing his dangerous canines, hoping to look sexy enough to entice Marik into fucking him. He didn't much care for conversation when he had a throbbing boner on him.

Marik blinked, before he righted himself on his motorcycle, gunning the engine.

"Nope, I just can't!" Marik smirked, laughing diabolically as he raced from the alley, even going so far as to pop a wheelie, and flip Bakura off as he sped off. "Don't forget the Locator Cards!" was the final reply.

Feeling anger and sexual frustration boiling up inside of him, Bakura shoved a hand into his jeans pocket. Pulling out Ryou's phone, he flipped the device open, and thumbed through the different menus, before reaching the one he wanted.

Pulling open the album, Bakura grinned as he studied the phone. He'd snuck into Marik's hotel room, once, and had caught the blonde in the shower. Before his presence could be known, the thief had snapped a picture of the Egyptian in shower.

Looking at it now, Bakura let out a throaty groan, and strode over to an empty crate. Turning it bottom side up, the albino plopped down on top of it, and undid his buttons.

Watching his hand, he smirked. "We meet again. Let's hope you're as good as you were last time," he purred, before instantly turning his attention to the beautiful, wet slicked body of his partner.

-(-o-)-

**(**This was mostly because of that panel in the manga where Marik's got Bakura bent over his motorcycle as he stares at him with a creepy grin. Every time I see it, I think "blowjob!"... Yes, I'm a pervert, and yes I see Thiefshipping in everything.

EVERYTHING.**)**

**Why does Bakura always end up masturbating in my stories...? :/**

**Heh. There was originally a different story, but it wasn't coming along... however, I needed SOMETHING for Thiefshipping Thursday, neh?**

**Anyways... I get tired of seeing Marik getting raped by Bakura. Or Bakura 'putting Marik in his place', or stuff like that. It just really irks me, since Bakura was practically Marik's bitch through out all of the second season.**

**(**that said, I am actually reading a fic where Bakura rapes Marik, but I don't even know WHY since I don't like Angstshipping at all... Dx**)**

**So~ this is a little tribute to Marik~, because I will always have him top... Unless the story is continuous, in which case they take turns... Marik just tops THE (**I know they only did blow-jobs, but I made it obvious, didn't I? xD**)**

**(**on that note, I can read Marik bottoming, as long as he doesn't act all uke. Like Junkyard Love, and A Typical Fridays**)**

**Well, reviews are loved.**

**See ya!**

**Special note; the-forgotten-one135 made a lovely fan-art of the Dark Woods Circus chapter:**ht tp:/ the-forgotten-one135. / gallery/#/d45ug0d

**No~ spaces.**


	20. Chapter 20: We All Have Our Problems

**We All Have Our Problems**

**Rated: T**

**Warnings: Adult themes, language, and Citronshipping**

**Characters: Marik Ishtar, Thief King Bakura (**Akefia**) and slight Mr. Ishtar**

-(-o-)-

Marik slipped his toothbrush back into its holder, and stared dismally into the mirror. Staring back at him was not the beautiful, exotic blonde Egyptian that everybody else saw. No, staring back at him was a sad, desolate, lonely boy who thought of himself as disgusting trash, and knew it to be true, based off the words of another.

He'd been told so often that he was trash, ugly, disgusting, and all together just the perfect example of a freak. After all, his father had been whispering those words into the shell of his son's ear since he was young, just like one would usually feed a babe milk, Marik was fed lies.

Gritting his teeth, Marik pressed his forehead to the glass, and stared into his haunted eyes. With a weary smile, however, he realized he had at least one thing to look forward. Leaning back, he couldn't help but smile as he thought of the gray haired boy that was no doubt waiting for him down the street, standing beside the old Shark Rock.

"Get the hell out, you stupid brat!" A brash voice commanded from the hall, and a heavy fist pounded against the oak door. Marik shuddered slightly, and quickly fixed his hair. He ignored he muttered curses coming from outside, and made himself presentable.

Letting out a shuddered breath, he felt his heart quicken as he reached for the brass door-knob, boots clacking against the tile as he slid open the bathroom door. Immediately, his father shoved him out of the way, and grabbed the electric tooth-bush from its place.

Marik let out a cry of alarm, and prepared to escape, but all to quickly he felt the handle of the appliance pressing into his back, and the tell-tale click and hum of the item turning on. With a deep throated groan, Marik quickly collapsed to the ground, shuddering and gasping, staring angrily up at his father.

"That'll teach you to move faster in the morning, you disgusting fuck," Mr. Ishtar roared, kicking Marik roughly in the ribs. His son, however, was to far gone.

-(-o-)-

Marik leaned against the Shark Rock. It was called that, since it stuck up out of the ground, and somebody had drown a shark's face upon it, giving it an even more sharkly appearance. Rumor had it that one of the Touzouku brothers did it, but Marik highly doubted it. Ryou was to sweet, and Akefia and Bakura weren't in to minor acts of graffiti. It just wasn't their style to do such stupid, pointless acts of defamation.

A smile lit Marik's face as he thought of Akefia Touzouku. Akefia was Marik's one and only friend in the world. Sure, Marik had formed temporary alliances with Bakura, and sometimes helped Ryou, but aside from that, the only person he interacted with on a daily basis was Akefia.

Thinking back to the first time they met, Marik couldn't help but grin.

_ "Fuck you!" a tanned boy screeched as he was dragged, kicking and fighting, off of the bus. "Bakura I'll fucking rip your ear off and off and shove it down your fucking throat when I get home!" The struggling boy was being restrained by three teachers, and even that was barely enough._

_ Marik happened to be walking past the bus-stop then. He saw the boy, and noticed that he was one of the infamous Touzoukus. In the bus window, Marik could see two matching, pallid faces in the window, one of them high-lighted with a sneer, whereas the gentler one seemed worried._

_ Shifting his attention to the boy kicking and yelling, he saw that it was the third and eldest of the Touzoukus. As the bus drove off, the Touzouku was finally released. The teachers all breathed sighs of relief, and delivered the new unto him that he would no longer be allowed to ride the bus, and that his next offense would be jail and being expelled._

_ "I don't know how to get home from here!" Akefia roared, voice cracking and going hoarse as he glared after the teachers. Marik simply watched. It was true that the Touzoukus were new to this school, though certainly not to this town. Their names were plastered everywhere, though rumor had it that one of them was actually very nice._

_ Eyes narrowing slightly, Marik watched as the grey-haired boy grew irritated, foot stomping as he kicked at some loose gravel. Suddenly, and quite savagely, the boy turned, hardened eyes locking onto Marik's face._

_ Startled, the blonde blinked, and realized he'd been caught staring._

_ "Hey, you!" the boy barked, and quickly strode up to Marik, scarlet jacket fluttering behind him and revealing a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans. He was dressed quite average: not what one would expect of a Touzouku. Then again, all the Touzoukus dressed average, strangely enough._

_ "Can I help you?" Marik responded, voice adopting a slight growl, as if to make up for his current folly. The blonde crossed his muscular arms across his chest, and regarded the Touzouku calmly._

_ "Yeah, you can," the boy spat in return, before scooping up his backpack, which had fallen in the scuffle. "You can let me ride home with you!"_

_"I don't get picked up," Marik responded drily.  
><em>

_ "And why not?"_

_ At this Marik's face flushed. The true reason he didn't drive cars, or ride the bus, or ride in anything that moved, pretty much was... Was much to embarrassing to share! Telling this Touzouku, or anybody for that matter, would be a dire mistake._

_ "I just... We don't have enough money to buy a car," Marik spluttered, and looked away quickly._

_ "So you walk?" the boy questioned, turning to face the side-walk. Marik did the same, before offering a nod. The other grinned. "Good. Then you can walk me home, all right?"_

_ "How nice of you to await my permission," Marik retorted, grunting as he began walking. His hands gripped the straps on his backpack, and he began walking, the other following behind him._

_ "I'm Akefia Touzouku, by the way," Touzouku announced, a grin splitting his features, "it'd do you good to remember that name. You'll be hearing a lot of it soon."_

_ "Oh?" Marik stated, growing slightly irritated with this guy's pompous attitude. "Where do you live, anyways?"_

_ "Dunno," Akefia replied, "it's just by some rock that juts up out of the ground." Marik nodded, before realizing that Akefia lived just down the street for him, or at least somewhere within the neighborhood._

_ "Good, I don't want to get in trouble for getting in late. You live near me," Marik said, flicking his hair over his shoulder. "Mind me asking why you got kicked off of the bus?"_

_ "Oh. That." Akefia's lip peeled back, revealing his white teeth. "My little faggot of a brother kept bugging me about... About something private, so I got pissed and ripped open a seat. When the bus driver saw, he started yelling something, and then I punched Bakura in the face. That's when the teachers got on board." Offering a shrug, the Touzouku seemed done explaining._

_ "Interesting," was Marik's creative response. He did arch his eyebrows just a bit, however, and studied Akefia. "You know, those seats are pretty tough... How did you manage to _rip_ one?"_

_ "I'm strong," was Akefia's pompous response._

_ Rolling his eyes, Marik realized they were nearing the rock. "Well, we're almost there. Can you find your way home from the rock?" Marik queried, studying Akefia in his peripheral vision._

_ The grey haired boy grunted, and Marik could only assume that it was his way of confirming things. When they neared the rock, Akefia moved to split apart, but stopped, and grabbed Marik's arm roughly. The blonde immediately went on the defensive, but Akefia just rolled his eyes._

_ "I was merely going to tell you to meet me at this rock in the mornings. I won't know my way after one time," Akefia stated, though from his grin, Marik could tell he was lying. But for some reason, Marik didn't really mind the thought of somebody actually wanting to see him for more then once._

_ "Yeah... Okay. I'll walk you home, too, if you need it." Smirking, Marik pulled his arm from Akefia's grip, and watched as the Touzouku's eyes narrowed, and he returned the grin._

_ "Of course, partner," the thief had agreed as he took Marik's hand, giving it a savage shake. With that, Akefia dismissed himself from Marik's presence, and lavender eyes watched him disappear down the adjacent street, smiling slightly to himself._

_ Marik had had friends before, but they'd all found out eventually about Marik's... 'problem'. However, Marik was dead set and determined that Akefia would never find out. He would keep this friend._

And indeed Marik had, for several years now. That had been back when they were in seventh grade. Now, four years later, they were both Juniors in high school, still hanging around each other in the same way.

Akefia hadn't found out, though at times Marik had debated whether or not to tell his friend about his... Problem. After all, Akefia wasn't really all that normal either. If anybody dared to say 'fuck you' to him, he would immediately explode with fury. Marik found out later on that that was what Bakura had said to prompt the fight, that day on the bus.

The Touzouku also had issues with any penis-related jokes. Marik had never quite found out why, but they put Akefia on edge. Really, any perverted joke pissed the grey-haired boy off more then it should have. Everybody had the right to be offended, but Akefia took it over the top, and got completely _pissed_.

Marik had made a point of never bringing it up, and stopping people in their tracks whenever he could. Staring around the street, he still waited for Touzouku. They were supposed to be going to hang out at the park today, just to get out of their houses. Akefia knew that Marik's father was an asshole, and Akefia hated being around his brothers for to long, so they planned little outings like this on the weekend.

Staring up into the sky, Marik felt a smile grace his features as he imagined something romantic possibly happening during their little trip tot he park. Marik didn't want anything girly- Marik was far from girly, after all-but after four years, he couldn't help but wish that _something _came of it.

Grimacing, he realized that it probably wasn't going to happen. Akefia had never even been with a girl yet, let alone a guy. And on top of all that, Marik was a freak! If they were dating, it'd eventually come out, right?

Curling his hand into a fist, Marik fidgeted with his lavender midriff. It had been a Christmas present from Akefia- as a gag gift, of course. But, just to spite him, Marik had began wearing, and found it quite comfy. His father had mocked him for a bit, but after a while, the joke grew stale. After all, Marik's problem was a much better target, and it hurt the boy a little bit more.

Hearing the distant rumble of a car, Marik bit his lip.

Thinking that it was just some random driver, he didn't even bother to look up when the rusty red pick up truck rumbled in front of him, cruising to a stop before the waiting blonde. Not even giving it a spare glance, he was surprised when the passenger side door swung open towards Marik with a loud creak. Finally looking up, Marik's jaw dropped as he saw Akefia sitting on a hole covered seat, a smirk spread across his tanned face.

"Hop on in!" the thief commanded, chuckling and patting the passenger side. Marik made a strangled noise, and frantically shook his head. Akefia grew slightly irritated, and began shooting glances down the road, clearly worrying about someone coming down the road and taking him out.

"Marik Ishtar, get the _hell _in this car right _fucking now_," Akefia ground out. Frowning, Marik realized that Akefia seemed to have an affinity for the f-bomb, despite the fact that phrasing him a certain way seemed to piss him off to much.

Biting his lip, Marik stepped forward hesitantly. He really didn't want to do this, but... Perhaps it was just best to lose Akefia now, rather then later, and have it hurt even worse. Sighing, Marik decided it had at least been a few good years...

Hoisting himself into the truck, he lowered his bottom down onto the seat, and slammed the old door shut behind him. He instantly felt the vibrations running through his body. Arching his back a little, he didn't even notice that Akefia started driving. Squinting his eyes shut tight, Marik felt a pounding in his ass and penis, making him practically whimper from the feeling.

He knew what was coming, but he was going to hold it back for as long as possible.

"We just got this car today," Akefia stated conversationally. "I had to fight Bakura for it. He claimed something about 'my date' not being as important as his trip to get a new trench-coat and..." Akefia paused, eyes narrowing as he shifted his gaze. Marik was making deep throated noises as he writhed on the seat.

Instantly, the Touzouku pulled off to the side, sending clouds of dirt from behind his pick up truck as he rolled out into the grass, almost ramming into the thick line of trees that began the woods. Turning slightly, Akefia peered at Marik, whose cheeks were flushed as he let out low moans.

Frowning, Akefia merely watched, until finally Marik began to let cries erupt from his mouth.

"Ah! God! OH!" Marik screeched, back completely arching as he thrust his hips forward, orgasming in Akefia's seat. With an exhausted noise, the boy slumped backwards, blonde hair splayed out against the head rest as he allowed his jaw to go slack.

Akefia blinked, and stared.

Marik felt heat creeping up his neck, and shame prickled every inch of his body.

"It's okay," Marik grumbled, rising wearily up, "I'm used to it. I'll walk myself home." Sliding half-way out of the seat, Marik add bitterly, "And don't worry. I won't talk to you at school anymore."

As he was exiting the truck, he felt an arm grasp his bicep, and Marik froze, turning back to look at Akefia with mistrusting eyes. The thief's face, however, was quite unreadable, and he just studied Marik.

"Where are you going?" Akefia finally questioned, tightening his grip in the slightest of ways, and he practically pulled Marik back into the truck. The blonde was clearly not happy about this, but dealt with it.

"Well, when most people find out my problem they..." here, Marik shrugged his shoulders, and gave a bitter, twisted smile. Akefia nodded slowly, before releasing Marik. "So the usual, right? If I stay away from you, you won't tell anybody? That's my only deal. If you try to pick on me, or give me a swirly, I will shove a doorknob up your ass. Ask Conner Potts, he'll tell you."

Turning his back on Akefia, he was surprised when, yet again, he felt a hand gripping his arm. Whirling around, Marik's nostrils flared and he balled his hand into a fist.

"Quit fucking touching me! You know my secret; that doesn't mean I'll let you man-ha-"

"I have a buried penis."

Marik froze, eyes opening wide as he stared at Akefia. The other Egyptian had ducked his head, and coughed slightly, grey hair hiding his eyes from Marik's view. The blonde just stared, not really knowing what to say.

"My dad... He circumcised me and well... He messed it up," Akefia continued, voice gruff. "That's why I don't like penis jokes. That's why I don't like people saying 'fuck you'. And that's why I don't like when those dumb-ass girls start rumors about how amazing or bad I was in bed with them."

Shifting back into his seat, Marik studied Akefia.

"What's... What's your thing, anyways?" the thief grumbled, still not looking into Marik's eyes. "I've never seen that before... You just.. Orgasmed?"

"It's called PGAD," Marik whispered. "It means Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder. I... Whenever something vibrates near me -even something as small as a toothbrush- I go into an orgasm. That's why I couldn't ride the bus and why-"

"And why I've never seen you in a car," Akefia finished, and Marik gave a grim nod.

"Whenever people find out, they think I'm some freak," the smaller of the two continued, all of the words rushing to his mouth like a river, now that he was finally able to say these things that had bothered him for so long. "My own father... He likes to put cellphones and toothbrushes up to me, just to make me collapse in the floor so he can mock me. Whenever kids at school found out, they immediately ditch me, and ignore me for the rest of their lives..."

Marik's voice finally gave out, and he just stared at Akefia, finally muttering, "You're the first."

Akefia gave a somber nod, and ran his hand up Marik's arm, causing gooseflesh to break out across the darkened skin. Marik leaned into Akefia's palm as it nuzzled at Marik's chin, causing a warm feeling to stir within his belly.

"Akefia!" Marik blurted, and moved forward slightly. "I like you." With that, he rushed forward, leaving Akefia's hand clutching air, and sealing his lips over top Akefia's, grabbing the bigger boy's shoulders and holding him close.

It didn't take long for Akefia to respond, and Marik was grateful that he felt hands on the small of his back, practically heaving him from across the other side of the car and into Akefia's lap. Ignoring the fact that his legs had hit the console, Marik focused solely on the kiss.

Their moment was ruined, however, as the phone in Akefia's pocket buzzed. Marik leaned back, orgasming in Akefia's lap as he gripped the steering wheel in a death vice. Grumbling obscenities, Akefia quickly withdrew his phone.

It was just Bakura, demanding the truck.

Snarling, Akefia glared at the screen, before looking up to Marik. The blonde had finished, and was now resting his ass on Akefia's thighs, back resting against the steering wheel as he huffed, chest rising and falling.

**'Come get the truck. Me n Marik are going to the park. It's down the street from the SR.'**

Cutting his phone off, Akefia kicked open the door, and pulled Marik out of the truck with him. The blonde smiled slightly as he stumbled outside, before wrapping his arms around Akefia's neck, pulling the grey haired man down for another kiss.

"I'm happy I finally found someone," Marik muttered, not bothering to think about how positively stupid he sounded. Akefia just chuckled, and ran a hand along Marik's back, smiling as he realized how the blonde was his now.

Problems and all.

-(-o-)-

**Okay, now if you read this, some of you are probably thinking something like 'wtf is wrong with this sick bitch for writing something like this?'... Let me explain.**

**I'm not doing this to poke fun, or make little of it. Actually, quite the opposite. I was watching 1,000 Ways to Die, and I saw the episode where the girl suffered from PGAD. Now, I'm naturally curious, so I looked it up.**

**It shocked me, honestly, that there were cures, but hardly anybody ever got them, because they were embarrassed. Now, the reason it shocked me, is because people actually have the nerve to mock people with this disorder, labeling them freaks, when it's not their fault.**

**Reading up on that, it pissed me off. And this doesn't just apply to people with PGAD, or buried penises, or anything like that. Anybody reading this, I want you to know, don't be ashamed. Don't be so scared and ashamed that you don't get help when you need it. People will mock you forever, regardless of your disease. If you don't want 'people' to know, then that makes sense, but just... Again, don't ever be to scared to speak up. People will always be assholes, regardless of what is or isn't wrong with you, so get help where you need it.**

**I know I'm usually pretty derp-y, but I think this topic is just... Yeah.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this.**

**Now, onto the derp-y side of things... I have Bakura's 'birthday' planned out... Sort of. I have something I've never attempted to do on it, so I'm hoping that it's going to work out okay... COME ONNNNN SEPTEMBER. (**that's when my birthday is too, so extra fun... And the funny thing about 'Bakura's birthday' is that Ryou isn't... In it... Heh...**)**

**See ya! :D**

**Son of a bitch this was a long A/N...**


	21. Chapter 21: Bean Bag

**Bean Bag**

**Rated: High T**

**Warnings: Adult themes, language, and phallic objects **

**Pairing: Rogueshipping  
><strong>

**Characters: Marik Ishtar, Yami Bakura and Thief King Bakura (**Akefia**)  
><strong>

Marik studied the paper in his hands, glancing over the directions before shifting his gaze to his two room-mates, Bakura and Akefia. The yami and the ancient Egyptian both were already bickering before even stepping foot inside of the store.

Rolling his eyes, Marik began walking, folding up the paper and shoving it into his pocket. He didn't know about those two idiots, but he knew what he had in mind.

Their mission was short, simple and sweet:

Obtain a beanbag at all costs.

During the move to their new home, their old beanbag had been ripped. It had been a simple, nice, dutiful little chair that seemed to curl about one's body in the best way possible. It's soft, grainy filling that should've been uncomfortable instead allowed your ass to float above the ground, while still being set in a stationary place. It also allowed your back to rest against the most lovely fabric, giving you Heaven on Earth as your head lolled back.

With a grim expression, Marik pushed open the front doors, and quickly marched farther back into the store, dead-set on finding that one perfect beanbag. He could hear Bakura and Akefia behind him, not really caring as much about the dumb beanbag. Marik was the only one that had really used it. The other two found normal chairs much more fitting.

"Would you both shut up?" Marik snapped finally, as they reached the beanbags. He whirled around in front of the multiple items, not even bothering to observe their vibrant colors, and soft, welcoming surfaces. "I'm getting a beanbag, with or without your bitching!"

Akefia snorted and crossed his arms, whereas Bakura smirked, taking a step towards the blonde. Blinking, Marik's eyes narrowed, and he watched Bakura grow closer.

"You know, Marik, there happens to be a very good beanbag behind you, that even _I_ am interested at seeing you on," the albino purred, before placing a hand upon Marik's broad shoulder, and shoving the boy roughly.

With an irritated noise, Marik stumbled backwards, falling down upon the soft surface of a beanbag. Bakura stared down at him, a predatory look upon his pale face. Akefia, by this point, had drawn up close as well, face splitting wide with a grin as he watched Marik struggle to sit up once more.

"What's so great about this one?" Marik grumbled, though he had to admit he liked the feel of it. Slowly, he began running his fingers up the side of it, before pausing to study it more. It was pretty long, and wide, made specifically for the back. Near the bottom, there were two rather large pieces, presumably for one to let their knees rest upon them.

"Oh, I just like seeing you on it, as I stated before," Bakura purred. Looking up, Marik saw that both the men above him were staring at him with avid interest, just like when they wanted to fuck or be fucked.

"Yes, for once I agree with my other self," Akefia purred, and swooped down, knees touching the cold tile as he leaned in, resting a hand on Marik's thigh. Bakura followed swiftly after, but on the other side, hands moving to caress Marik's opposite leg, clearly trying to excite the boy.

"Hm." Marik said simply, and removed their hands before rising up from his seated position. Both the Bakuras merely watched, smirking as he stared down at the beanbag he'd been on.

It was shaped like a penis.

Coughing slightly, Marik stepped to the side that Akefia was on, just to have the thief's hand wrap around his waist, holding him in place. "Now, now, dear Marik," the grey haired man murmured, reaching up to run his tongue along Marik's exposed sides.

"Akefia," Marik gave a warning growl, and shoved the thief away by the forehead. He easily side-stepped the other Egyptian's arm, just to be grabbed by Bakura, and pushed back down onto the beanbag.

With a slight _unf!_ noise, Marik landed against the beanbag, hearing the crinkling noise of fabric beneath him. Bakura didn't follow him down, and merely watched as Marik rose into the sitting position once more.

"Oh for the love of Ra!" Marik barked, before swinging his legs around, straddling the beanbag. "Is this what you want?" the blonde growled mutinously as he rubbed his hips against the surface, tossing his head back slightly. "Oh Bakura! Oh Akefia! Yes oh Gods I'm getting so hard!" Marik mock-moaned, giving each of the Bakuras heavy glares. Neither of them were paying much attention, however, and instead moved as one; almost like a pride of lionesses stalking their prey.

One on either side of him, they looped their arms around his waist, both trailing kisses along his cheeks and neck, tongues slithering between the chinks of the gold their lover wore. Marik moaned for real, and tilted his head back, smirking as they lavished him. No matter how indifferent he acted, Marik enjoyed the feeling of power that came with having the two men loving him-almost as if he were the Pharaoh, and they were his harem.

Turning sideways, Marik engaged Akefia in a kiss, turning on the bag so that way he could press more urgently against the other. Bakura took that chance to crane his neck down, tongue leaving wet trails along Marik's spine, causing the boy to shudder. Akefia was returning the kiss, while allowing his hands to roam beneath Marik's shirt, brushing across all of the blonde's sensitive spots.

"Mommy, what're they doing!" Came an exited cry off to the side, making all three men pause, and reminding them they were currently sitting in the middle of a store. It turns out, it was the child of a worker, and the woman was staring at them, opened mouthed, whereas the little boy was grinning.

Marik coughed, and rose up from his seat, brushing off his pants and stepping back out onto the open floor. Akefia and Bakura joined him, hands still brushing against his as they stared at him, cruel grins warping their features.

"Well, I think our mission was accomplished," Marik huffed, ignoring the gaping worker. "I have the new beanbag I want, and I think this time, we can _all _enjoy it."

-(-o-)-

**Oh I fail at endings.**

**... I cheated and did Rogue...**

**I can't write sexy things...xD**

**I've never sat in a beanbag, so I'm sorry um... I just compared it to beanie babies and stuff...**

**And this is my first time ever writing a three-way... thing.  
><strong>

**This was supposed to be 'short' but... It's very rare I can write something 'short'. In English class, we were supposed to write a one paragraph response to a painting (**Starry Starry Night**) and I ended up doing a whole friggn' five-point essay. **

**...**

**For those of you here on FF, this was a Challenge for something on Tumblr. For whatever word gets put in my AskBox, I write a short-story revolving around Thief/Citron (or another pairing, if stated other-wise) and that word.**

**If you would like to participate, you may~. The more the merrier, eh? The link to my Tumblr is on my profile, so yeah. Or PM on he~re.. Either way this was so much fucking fun! xD  
><strong>


	22. Chapter 22:JLLunar

**Lemme just say, before this story starts... Whoever said this... You're an ass! xD**

**JLLunar**

**Rated: T**

**Warning: Language and Thiefshipping**

**Characters: Marik Ishtar and Yami Bakura**

"This place smells like shit," Bakura grumbled, reluctantly stepping out of the car, and slamming the door shut angrily. Marik gave him an exasperated look, before climbing out himself, quickly locking the door behind him.

"Just shut up and enjoy the scenery," the blonde grumbled, straightening out his lavender top.

"It's fucking October, and it's still hot as hell!" Bakura barked, fanning at his face and glaring mutinously at nothing in general. Marik just rolled his eyes, and stared up at the building. It was a simple, brown, old western type place, that could've passed for a house, had it not been for all the signs and picnic tables out front.

A red and white checker designed hood hung over top the front, casting a small little shade over the top of the door. Nobody was outside, except for one girl, who was sitting at a picnic table with two dogs surrounding her.

Sighing, Marik strode forward, approaching the younger girl. She didn't look up at him, and kept her gaze on the concrete, bushy red hair obscuring her from view. As Marik drew closer, the girl scooted further back, hiding her hands in her long black sleeves, and nervously petting at her two dogs.

One of the dogs, spotting Marik, lurched forward on its leash, long tongue lolling from its mouth as the dog jumped and pawed desperately at the air, long body writhing in the air as pitiful whines came from its creme-colored throat.

Bakura snorted behind Marik, and eyed the animals with disgust. The other mutt stayed in the girl's lap, and seemingly kept her occupied, and unable to answer questions.

"Hey, brat!" Bakura barked, banging roughly on the picnic table. The girl started, and pressed back against the wooden wall. Marik gave Bakura a distasteful look, but let it go. As long as they got their answers, this was perfectly okay.

The dog that had leaped for Marik at fist, was now attempting to stretch its red collar out in an attempt to reach Bakura, and possible cover the albino in kisses. The Spirit of the Ring sneered, and looked pointedly away, glaring, instead, at the girl.

She now looked up at them, eyes dilated as they flitted back and forth. "Remy," she muttered, and patted her leg, causing the dog that was attempting to get at the boys to retreat, rushing back to its master's lap and practically burying the other puppy.

"We need your help," Marik interrupted, eyes narrowing as he glared down at the girl. Beside him, Bakura grunted, irritated at being denied the chance of psyching somebody out. To make up for it, Marik reached out and allowed his arm to circle Bakura's waist, pulling the other boy into him and allowing his tongue to flicker out, dancing along the others white collar bone.

When he faced the girl again, she was openly staring, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her sleeves. Sneering, Marik snapped his fingers before him, clearly showing that he didn't feel like waiting anymore.

"What... What're y'all wantin' to know, 'xactly? Y'all didn't tell me nothin'," the girl grumbled, voice harsh from not being used as much. Marik frowned at the accent, but said nothing, and merely continued on.

"We need to know where a hotel is," the blonde explained, keeping his arm tight around Bakura's bony waist, since he could feel the other growing fidgety beside him. "It's called Kaiba Homes. It's supposedly new."

The girl stared at him, mouth twisting downwards before savagely shaking her head. "I don't know nothin' 'bout that," she replied, hands gripping at her dog as she began shuffling about in her seat, causing the dogs to grow restless, and immediately begin bouncing around, looking for kisses.

"Surely you must know _something_?" Bakura spat. "Are you really this useless? Honestly, don't you live in this Godforsaken town?" The girl's eyes widened more and she seemed to be panicking under the onslaught of questions.

"I don' know!" she finally yelped. "Ya can go in there and ask my momma," the girl continued, pointing frantically at the door. "I don' know nothin' bout where anythin' is, and I cain't help ya none. If you go in there, she can give ya directions and the like, and she'll help ya find it. If nothin' else, she might even have a map fer ya to borra."

Grumbling, Marik agreed, and dragged Bakura away. The albino managed to flick the girl off before being dragged inside the air conditioned restaurant. All around them, over-weight southerns chowed down on their Bar-B-Que, overalls a plenty in the stupid, country place.

At the front counter, a plump, brown haired woman stood there, eying them irritably as they strode in. Bakura approached the counter first, and immediately demanded that the woman show him the location of the new place.

"First off, are you customers?" the woman questioned, eyes narrowing as she glared back over top the counter to Bakura.

"Do I look like I'm going to eat your trash?" Bakura spat, practically hissing. Marik rolled his eyes, and propped his hip out, before pointing outside.

"That little kid out there said you'd tell us where the new hotel, Kaiba Homes?" Marik explained, grabbing Bakura by the arm and dragging him back a bit. The albino snorted, but allowed himself to be held by Marik, ignoring the dirty looks he got from the surrounding people.

"Oh," the woman grumbled, casting an irritated glance outside. "Yeah, here's what you're going to do."

-(-o-)-

Clambering into the car, Bakura cast an irritated glance over his shoulder. The little girl was still sitting at the picnic table, staring up at her mother while she kept the two dogs restrained.

"Fucking useless ass hicks," Bakura grumbled, letting out a contented sigh as the air conditioner kicked in. Marik sighed, but silently agreed.

"Well, if it's any consolation," the blonde purred, leaning across the console and allowing his lips to massage Bakura's neck, and his hand to reach down to grope the albino, prompting a low moan. "I'll make it up to you tonight."

"I think I quite like that idea," Bakura agreed as Marik shifted back into the driver's seat, ready to back up.

"I like that idea a lot."

-(-o-)-

**So somebody said the word 'JLLunar', and that I had to put myself in the story (**bitch..**) so I did it. (**Fuckers**)**

**Yeah... I'm actually pretty IC dammit... And yes, I really do have those dogs, and yes I have brought them up to my mom's work, and yes I have worked there, so YES I do know that whole building and yes, I do talk like that. (**I have social anxiety, if you're wondering why I acted weird. I actually do react very badly when people try to talk to me... Especially nice people. Nice people scare me...**)**

**Yay for Thief and blabbity blah.**

**(**Oh my God, this was weird to write...**)**


	23. Chapter 23: SpiderwebOriginal Plan

**SPIDER WEBS**

I'm in what one would liken to a spider web. Soft silken strands of beautiful lies and memories that press against your skin, promising things to every fibre of your being until you're left screaming at the sheer ludicricy and pain of it all.

The webs grow thick and small, all different variations of the lies and the crimes that I've committed. All around me they reach from my very core, ripping me apart as they each spread out, attempting to cling hold in this dingy room that I seem to be in.

This room echoes all around me, haunting me and causing me to scream and cry, since all of my lies are inevitably brought back round to me, connecting me to everything that I keep trying to forget.

I can cry all I want in this room, but yet still nothing happens. My tears smack the lies upon their way down into the dank abyss, but they don't affect them, because the lies are just _there_. No matter what I do, they won't go away. The more I poke, prod, and try to break them, the more it hurts, and the more I want to just end it all.

I've tried that before, too.

But the only problem with that was the hot flash of memories that ripped through my very being. Memories of a knife slashing through my skin. By that time, the strings were in a happy, humming uproar, quickly bringing to light the death of my father. His cold corpse smacking into the stone as his life left him swiftly.

Gasping, I rock forward in the middle of my web, curling up and grasping my head, attempting to clear my thoughts of such retched, disgusting thoughts. The threads, however, disagree, and they're shaking me, vibrating me, attempting to send me loose and plummeting towards the ground, attempting to make me succumb to their vile twisted ways.

Shuddering, I feel hot tears pressing out from beneath the gellatinous orbs I call eyes. New tracks of salt are now making their way down my face, dripping from my nose to land upon a strand that I was currently clenching in my fists.

With a low, gutral growl, I feel the memories of this crime pressing in on my mind, remembering me of the time I spent with the Spirit of the Ring. It reminded me of all the things I'd promised him, and all the things I'd given him.

Just to ultimatley fail.

My failure to deliver unto him didn't sting me in the slightest. The Spirit of the Ring had been a pawn-a smart one-but a pawn nonetheless. When I heard news of the Spirit's downfall, I felt no remorse, nor passion.

I merely felt disgust.

The disgust that rises in my throat like buring vile is due to one thing.

The Spirit was allowed to escape- was allowed to run away and leave his web behind.

The lucky bastard got away, while I sit here, listening to the thrum of my memories, and having everything tossed roughly into my face, smacking me around in the attempt to deterierate my mind to where it was merely flakes residing with a fractured skull, because surely if I fell from here I would finally be released.

Rising to my knees, I felt the lies shake unhappily below me. Slowly, I lifted myself to my feet, and breif flashes of a hotel room broke through my concious, showing me that as I walked along a strand of memories, I also appeared to be crossing some type of thresholed that I certainly had no recolection of.

Smirking, I wondered what kind of fucked up dream I was having, seeing as I spotted small flashes of Odion, sleeping in the corner of the strange room.

Another flash and I was back in my world of strands, foot sliding easily along it.

More breif glimpses of the hotel room, as I finally reached a window. Deciding to humor this silly dream, I threw open the hotel doors, showing me a blacony. Erupting into laughter for the first time at how positivley stupid this all was, I clambered ontop of the blacony railings, which also, back in the real world, landed me upon a higher up strand.

In both worlds, I stared down into nothingness.

I saw faces swim before my eyes, bringing back all the people that I'd ever spoken to in life. Most of them were unwelcome, and I'd seen enough of them for these past few years within my broken little world.

I was tired of these faces.

Tired of these memories.

And tired of these lies that a world existed outside of my little spiderweb.

So I did the only plausible thing.

And jumped.

-(-o-)-

**This was the original plan for the Spiderweb word prompt, but I think I'm going to go with something different. I just don't like how it went, and... Writing first person is NOT my **

**This hasn't been edited. At all. So enjoy my sucky grammar and spelling~ xD**

**(**If you don't understand, or are confused, feel free to ask questions.**)**

**(SPAMMITY SPAMMITY SPAM... I'm sorry... It's six in the morning and I'm bored as fuck...)  
><strong>


	24. Chapter 24: Inner Tube

**Inner Tube**

**Rated: R/M/NC-17**

**Warnings: Sex and Rogueshipping  
><strong>

Marik sat on the inner-tube.

Really, he didn't even know why he had it! But here he was, sitting in this little, two foot kiddy pool that could barely fit the four people inhabiting it. Ryou was on one side, attempting to avoid being splashed, whereas Bakura and Akefia were practically clawing each other apart with various attempts at causing mutilation.

Marik watched as, finally fed up, Ryou extracted himself from the pool, and stalked away from the circular thing, grumbling all the while about the stupid Bakuras. Sighing, he watched as Ryou disappeared into the house, before shifting his gaze back to the two men now gazing at him with avid expressions.

"Oh look," Akefia purred, "little Marik out here with us, oh so alone." With that, a low thrumming chuckle bounded its way from within the thief's caramel throat, and he moved forward, water fanning out behind him as he moved closer to Marik's inner tube.

"I'm going to kick you in the nuts if you don't get away from me. I don't feel like sex right now," Marik snarled, though he had to admit he liked seeing the thief's dark body bared to him, still glistening with droplets of water, and his hair wet, clinging to his body in wonderful ways.

Akefia disregarded Marik's threat, however, and that irked the Egyptian. Marik didn't like being ignored, or thought of as inferior. Rising up from his inner tube, he was preparing to jump from the hole, but he was stopped by spider like fingers pressing against his pecs, causing him to flop back down onto the rubber.

"What the hell?" Marik barked, fumbling around just a bit to realize that Bakura and Akefia were now blocking all methods of escape for him. Pulling his lips back in a sneer, the blonde let out a yelp of surprise when he felt two mouths upon his flesh, tongues lashing at his skin.

Arching his back, Marik let out a sharp cry as he felt teeth clamp onto his nipples, before the feeling of saliva was back once more, stroking over the hardening buds.

"Gods," Marik groaned, not even bothering to realize that he should've been mad at the two men-they had really just started on him with no warning or permission! But Marik decided he didn't care, seeing as he was strangely okay with the two men ravaging him.

Smirking slightly, Marik's mouth was soon preoccupied with something else. He felt lips meeting his own, and wet member sliding into his mouth, caressing the inside. Moaning, Marik leaned forward slightly, realizing that he was kissing Akefia. Grabbing the thief roughly by his shoulders, Marik hoisted himself up, deepening the kiss and ignoring Bakura's grunt of annoyance.

The albino moved, however, allowed Marik to fully relish his making out with the Thief King. Pressing their wet-slicked bodies together, Marik felt as Touzouku-ou's hand wandered lower, giving Marik's ass a tight squeeze.

Gasping, the blonde broke the kiss, and stumbled backwards. He was immediately caught by Bakura, who took his turn engaging Marik in his own kiss. His lips moved roughly and needy against the others, and he began to run his hands all over Marik.

In a flash, Akefia was there, dropping down to his knees in the pool, to where the water lapped at his chest. Bakura smirked, watching Akefia. Wrapping his pallid arms around Marik's waist, he hoisted the boy up just a bit, baring his crotch a little more to Akefia, who began nuzzling Marik's crotch.

Bucking his hips slightly, Marik broke away from the kiss he and Bakura were sharing, to instead focus on the fact that he was slowly growing a more prominent boner. "Fuck," Marik groaned, "let's get this over with. Preferably before Ryou returns."

A dark chuckle reverberated in his ear, and he soon felt the tip of a tongue playing with the shell of his ear, causing a small shudder to erupt throughout Marik's body.

"Dammit," Marik grumbled, but watched as Akefia rose from his position, and crossed over to where their day-clothes were laying in a heap at the side of the pool. Reaching into the folds of his cloak, Akefia extracted a bottle that Marik was all to familiar with.

"Akefia," Bakura growled, "I want to fuck him this time!"

"You fucked him last time!" Akefia retorted, flicking his white bangs from his hair.

"Correction," Marik interrupted, ignoring the glares both men sent his way. "I fucked Bakura last time, and Bakura sucked you off. Honestly, can you guys not keep track anymore?"

Huffing, Bakura released Marik and grimaced. "Fine. Akefia, you can fuck Marik," Bakura grumbled. The blonde arched an eyebrow, but decided not to say anything, and instead watched Akefia.

"Get in the inner-tube," Akefia commanded, pointing to the tiger-striped toy. Huffing, Marik went to do as commanded. Clambering up atop the doughnut shaped item, he felt his butt hit the water, and waited impatiently for Bakura and Akefia to advance once more.

Immediately, Bakura grasped Marik's swimming trunks, and jerked them off of the boy's legs, revealing Marik's bare body to the world. Hissing at the sudden exposion, Marik stared down at his boner, watching as Bakura eyed it hungrily.

Behind him, he could feel Akefia's fingers prodding at his back side, moving them in and out and allowing Marik to get used to the feel. When he was satisfied, he removed his fingers, before lubing up his fingers with the-supposedly-water proof lube.

Grasping Marik's shoulders, he pressed down a bit on the blonde, making him slip further into the inner tube, before his ass met Akefia's cock. When Marik's ass had become well acquainted with its visiting neighbor, Akefia finally pushed inside.

Groaning, Akefia pulled out once more, before slamming in again. Marik let out a low moan, which only increased in tempo and volume as Bakura's mouth found its way to Marik's cock, sucking the blonde off, and giving him amazing sensations on every end.

Gasping and crying out, he was tossed back and forth in the little kiddy pool, bouncing up and down in the inner tube as Akefia slammed into him from below.

"Ah, Gods yes!" Marik cried, finally tossing his head back, blonde head of hair slamming into Akefia's chest as his jaw sagged open, cumming violently into Bakura's mouth. The albino quickly backed away, spitting the semen out. Akefia had finished as well, and was now pulling out of Marik.

Marik rose from his seat, and flopped into the water, landing in Bakura's arms. Sagging against the albino's chest, he reached down and jerked off Bakura, finishing the Spirit as well. Chuckling, Bakura reached down, pressing his lips against the blonde's forehead.

Soon, he felt Akefia beside them as well, arms resting around the other two men he was in a semi-relationship with.

"We need to visit Ryou more often," Akefia chuckled, and Marik and Bakura could only agree.

-(-o-)-

**-Beats head against desk-**

**This is all pantslessparadox's fault. xD She came up with the three-way idea. If you have a Tumblr and you don't follow her, you need too. :l Seriously. Because we talk about classy things like Tiger penises, Zorc dildos, and juicy sausages.**

**Yeah.**

**You want to.**

**xD**

**Yeah, but seriously, please review. This is my first time ever writing an 'actual' three way thingy... However, just a hint... This was neccesary practice for Bakura's birthday... :D**

**See ya!**


	25. Chapter 25: Bakura's Dad

**Bakura's Dad**

**Rated: Heavy T**

**Warnings: Pedophilic things, and Rogueshipping**

**Characters: Marik Ishtar, Yami Bakura and Akefia Touzouku**

Marik stared at his boyfriend as they marched down the street. Bakura was clutching at his backpack, an irritated expression on his face as they moved towards his white house at the end of the block. Frowning, Marik realized that Bakura had been on edge pretty much half of the week!

Finally breaking, Marik asked, "Bakura? What the hell is bugging you?"

The albino twitched a little, before his lips pulled back in a sneer. "My dad's back home from business," Bakura grumbled. "I hate my old man, he's just so stupid, and tries to act like he's still young and-"

But Marik wasn't listening anymore.

That first sentence was all Marik had needed to hear, before his mind was imploding with the amazing images he conjured every-time he heard _anything_ about Akefia Touzouku. Was it wrong? Incredibly. After all, he was dating Bakura. But what Bakura didn't know wouldn't hurt, right? And it's not as if Marik ever acted on it, or anything.

However, one memory was consistently playing in his mind...

-(-o-)-

_Marik was reclining on the chair, bored out of his mind as Bakura was back in his room, fixing the air conditioner or something like that. Marik was visiting when the thing had blown out, in the middle of fucking summer, when for some reason Ra deemed it appropriate to make it over a 100 degrees._

_ Fanning at his face, Marik debated about whether to help his boyfriend or not. Marik could fix things, after all. He had to, seeing as he lived with only his sister, and she was technology retarded for some reason._

_ Finally decided to do so, Marik rose from his seat, straightening out his midriff and dusting off his pants. With a tiny stretch, Marik strode forward, heading down the hall. He was interrupted, however, by a door swinging open._

_ Blinking in surprise, Marik watched as a man erupted from the room. With a weak noise, Marik felt his throat go dry as he saw Akefia Touzouku before him, bare chest and all, still sightly wet with messy white hair clinging to his face._

_ Clasped around his waist was a small towel, that just barely reached his mid-thigh, revealing the long muscular legs to the already heated Marik. Biting his lip, Marik watched as Akefia gave him a stunning grin, making the scar on his cheek ripple ever-so-slightly._

_ "Hey, Marik," Akefia greeted, and held a hand out to the younger boy. Marik quickly collected himself, and offered his hand to the other, watching as his hand slid into contact with the older man's. Of course Marik had noticed that Akefia looked hella good, but never before had he seen him like _this.

_ "Is Bakura working on that damned air conditioner?" Akefia grumbled, ruffling his hair and sending tiny droplets sprinkling down, pattering Marik's face and chest lightly._

_ "Yeah," Marik responded, attempting to keep his voice good and level. "I was thinking of helping him, since it seems to be taking him a bit."_

_ "Nah," Bakura's father chuckled, before patting Marik softly on the head. "He's probably just back here jerking off to some picture of you." His grin widened, and Marik just stared, baffled. "I'm kidding, boy," the grey-haired man said, snapping his fingers slightly and causing Marik to jump._

_ "Yeah, right," Marik smirked back, recovering his facade and flicking his golden bangs from his face. "And if he is, can you blame him?" Allowing his lips to curl up into a smile, Marik watched as Akefia's face wrinkled in amusement._

_ "Well, you're certainly different from the last boy he brought home," Akefia responded, brow drawing together. Marik gave Akefia an inquisitive glance. He wasn't really jealous, but he was intrigued. "Yeah, it was some Ryou kid. Real quiet like. Though it was sort of creepy how alike they are."_

_ "Well, we all know Bakura's pompous as hell, right?" Marik joked back, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as Akefia laughed and nodded in agreement. Both were interrupted, however, as a sweaty, red faced Bakura strode up to them, before glaring lividly up at his father._

_ "What the hell are you doing?" Bakura barked, before possessively grabbing Marik by the waist, and dragging the blonde in closer to him. Making an irritated noise, Marik moved away again, and watched as Akefia snorted at his son's antics._

_ "I was keeping your boyfriend busy, like you should've been," the father responded, causing Bakura to practically blow steam from his ears with how red his face turned. Watching in amusement, Marik was relieved to feel that the cold trickle of the air conditioner had begun circling the house._

_ "I'll certainly keep him entertained now," Bakura spat, eyes narrowing dangerously as he glared at Akefia. "Why don't you go get dressed, stupid loony!" the albino regarded his father with something close to loathing._

_ "Whatever, midget," Akefia sneered, before looking at Marik and grinning. "I hope to be seeing you around, Marik," the older man purred as he slipped away, striding down the hallway towards his bedroom._

_ As soon as he was gone, Bakura shot Marik an accusatory glance. _

_ "Were you just flirting with my dad?"_

_ "No," Marik responded immediately, not happy with such accusations. Huffing and turning up his nose, he was surprised when he felt arms around his waist, dragging him in close._

_ "Good," Bakura replied, voice muffled as he bit Marik's collarbone, sucking on the tanned skin there. He slowly pulled Marik back towards the bedroom, licking and sucking every inch of the other teen, before pushing him onto the bed._

_ Marik landed on the bed, before looking up at Bakura with a lustful gaze._

_ But, strangely enough, as Bakura fucked Marik, all the blonde could think of was Akefia._

-(-o-)-

It was at that point in time that Marik had realized his crush on Akefia. Now, every time the man was in town, Marik made a point of visiting and talking with him, indirectly flirting so that way Bakura wouldn't get pissy.

He was slightly peeved that Bakura hadn't told him this time, but he supposed that he would get over it. After all, at least he was still going to get to see Akefia, right? He may not be 'dressed to impress' in his shorts and t-shirt, but it was good enough.

The two boys walked in silence, until they reached the Touzouku household. Marik spent more time here then he did at home, even if Akefia wasn't going to be around. Ishizu always got home late, too, so it actually worked out better. Marik liked to spend the night when Akefia was in town though.

Frowning, Marik strode into the house, before tossing his book bag onto the floor. Bakura did the same, before making his way into the kitchen. Marik flopped down on the floor, and stared up at the bare ceiling. Luckily, the air conditioner was running full blast this time around.

Bakura returned shortly after with two fudgesciles. Marik gratefully took his, and Bakura plopped down on the couch, chomping harshly into his. Marik, however, decided to take his time. Suckling at the chocolate ice cream, he ran his tongue all around it, enjoying the flavor of chocolate.

"You look good eating that," Bakura chuckled, watching as Marik's tongue went to work on the frozen desert. Lavender eyes rolled, before Marik gave him a real show, tongue dragging out across the ice-crusted surface, and removing some of the solid blocking his way.

"He does look good, doesn't he," a voice commented drily from the entrance of the house. Bakura let an immediate snarl, and Marik immediately took the fudge from his mouth, making a disgusting wet noise as it left his lips.

Standing there, leaning against the door frame, was none other then Akefia. His grey hair was still much the same, hair flopping down to his face and framing his strong features. Mouth opened slightly, Marik watched as Bakura rose up from his seat.

"Bakura, I need you to go mow the lawn," Akefia said simply, brushing past his son and unbuttoning his crimson shirt, before shrugging out of it. Marik watched closely as the man's muscular body was revealed to him. Bakura didn't catch him staring, since he was to busy snarling like an animal.

"Marik's visiting," Bakura ground out.

"Marik visits every school day, and almost every day in the summer," Akefia countered, crossing his arms and staring angrily down at his child. "Now go."

"Fuck you!" Bakura spat. He stepped backwards, and kissed Marik roughly, practically pinning the blonde boy to the ground, and completely taking Marik by surprise. Unfortunately, Marik knew it wasn't out of 'love', or anything like that. It was merely defiance towards Akefia.

Rising up, Bakura swiped savagely at his face with the back of his knuckles and rid himself of Marik's saliva. Marik just went back to nibbling on his ice cream, and watched as Bakura stormed out of the room.

"What to do with him?" Akefia muttered allowed, rolling his eyes and sitting on the couch. Marik continued to eat his fudgesicle in silence, until Akefia spoke up again. "Come here, Marik," the older man bade, and Marik arched an eyebrow.

"There are nicer ways to request me," Marik responded, eyes narrowing playfully as he watched Akefia huff. Really, he was just to much like Bakura.

"How about you respect your elders?"

"Elder my ass!" Marik retorted. "You're only twenty-nine!"

"Older then you," Akefia sniffed, before patting his leg again. "Just get your ass over here, kid. _Please_," the man added, mouth twisting into a grimace at the word. Nodding his head, Marik walked over, before sitting down in front of Akefia. The elder man positioned Marik in between his legs, before lowering his large hands to Marik's shoulders.

The lighter-skinned boy tensed, but soon Akefia's fingers began kneading his shoulders, and Marik felt better. He even lifted his ice cream to his mouth once more, sucking on its frigid being as he moaned from the man's touch.

"Does my son have you this tense all the time?" Akefia chuckled, voice incredibly close to Marik's ear. The other boy didn't even bother to respond, and merely let his head fall back a little bit, licking the ice-cream's stick bare.

When he set the stick off to the side, Marik was surprised to feel a tongue licking at his ear. No that Marik wasn't happy.

Actually, quite the opposite.

Smirking, Marik tossed his head back a little, allowing Akefia to have access to his neck and collar bone. The man was still massaging Marik, and he was practically bent double, attempting to kiss down as far as he could.

Finally, though, Marik turned, and captured Akefia in a kiss, pressing urgently against the older man, and grabbing his face. Akefia groaned slightly, and Marik straddled his lap, pressing hungrily against him, these past few years of sexual tension finally coming to a bursting point.

Hands began roaming Marik's body, and the blonde felt his ass squeezed roughly by a large hand. Gasping, he broke the kiss, and settled back onto Akefia' thighs, loving the way the man was making him feel.

"Gods," Marik mumbled, before looking at half-lidded eyes to Akefia. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Yes," Akefia chuckled, grasping Marik by the shoulders and pushing the boy down to the floor, where he towered over the blonde child, on his hands and knees. Swiftly, he swooped down, locking the blonde's lips with his own.

Marik's hands hands flew up, wrapping themselves tightly into Akefia's hair. His legs lifted up to wind about Akefia's hips, pulling the other man down closer, and crushing their needs together.

Akefia actually moaned at this point, and shifted his mouth downwards, kissing and suckling at Marik's bottom lip.

"What if Bakura finds out?" Marik panted. "And why now?" Despite all of his questions, he didn't quit moving for a second. Not even as Akefia began to push Marik's shirt up, just to attack his nipples. The grey haired man spoke, however, in between licks.

"Bakura won't find out," Akefia said confidently, one hand tweaking a nipple, and the other nipping and stroking the other. "Because he'll be outside for a good two hours mowing that lawn. And why now? Because, I've seen you looking at me for years. You were a bit to young, then," Akefia left his nipples, in favor of kissing Marik straight on.

"However, you're seventeen now," Akefia continued. "You're pretty damn close to legal age. And well, let's just say that you eating that ice-cream... Sort of made me want you even more."

"Mm," was Marik's response. All of these things made it sound sexual-which was actually just fine with Marik. He didn't really 'like' Akefia in that manor of speaking, he just thought the man was sexy as hell. Even more so, when he was grinding down on top of the blonde.

No, Marik's 'feelings' still resided with Bakura. He did like the albino-quite a lot actually-but this was different.

"Tell me," Akefia smirked, tongue tracing all of Marik's abs, mapping out the area and making the younger boy squirm beneath him, "does my son please you like this? If not, he really should, or you might keep coming back to me."

Marik chuckled, though it was definitely breathy and haggard. "Quite confident I'll enjoy this, aren't you?" the blonde replied playfully, propping himself up on his elbows as Akefia finally began to rub Marik through the fabric of his shorts.

"Ah," Marik groaned, legs twitching as he spread them wider, giving Akefia better access to him. "And as for Bakura," the blonde whispered, "he fucks me, but he's not much for foreplay. He just likes to get straight down to it."

Akefia smirked. "Figured as much. I've never heard you moan out like this."

Grimacing, Marik watched Akefia. "You've heard us?"

"Plenty of times," Akefia shrugged. "I don't really care. Now, let's stop talking, and get down to business."

"Yes, sir," Marik readily agreed.

-(-o-)-

Marik's chest heaved as he lay, spent, on the carpet.

That was, hands-down, the best fuck he'd ever had. Akefia was slowly rising, however, and was tugging on clothes so he could clean up the mess before Bakura re-entered. Following suit, Marik quickly rose, dragging his clothes on over top his body as his mind attempted to register what just happened.

He'd just fucked his boyfriend's dad.

But, watching Akefia stride from the room, still shirtless, Marik decided that it was okay, as long as Bakura ever knew. Straightening his hair and clothes out, Marik strode into the kitchen, just to see a disgruntled, sweat soaked Bakura standing there, shaking stray grass from his hair.

Giving him a sympathetic look, Marik walked towards him.

"So what did you two do?" Bakura questioned, running clawed fingers through his hair. When the albino wasn't looking, Akefia and Marik both shared a sly grin, before Marik decided to answer.

"Nothing at all. I just finished my ice-cream."

-(-o-)-

**I an awful person... But I think I'm okay with it.**

**Background behind this: I was listening to Stacy's Mom...**

**I, personally, can never find older men attractive, because they're the same age as my parents, or pretty darn close so it's just the whole 'ew ew ew ew' factor... Blech.**

**But yeah... Let's just go ahead and get this out of the way: I am not encouraging people to become pedophiles. **

**This was written for fun. If you wish to be a pervert, you do it on your own time, where I can not be blamed.**

**See ya!**


	26. Chapter 26: To the Flamingos

"Ryou," Marik shouted obnoxiously, rising up from his tiger-patterned couch. He quickly crossed the white carpet, and lowered his face down in close to Ryou's, causing the whittete to-regretfully-have to close his book.

"Yes, Marik?" the whittete inquired tiredly, knowing he was probably going to regret all of this. As Marik's mouth opened, that feeling merely increased.

"I need you to take me to Africa!" Marik announced, pointing a finger dramatically to the sky and tossing his blonde hair behind his back. Ryou stared, dumbfounded, at his house-mate, before making spluttered protests.

"There's no _way_ I'm taking you to Egypt!" Ryou argued, rising up from his seat. Marik's face twisted, and he stepped away from the advancing hikari. "First of all, I can't trust you over there! Secondly, I don't have the money! And lastly, you don't even behave here! Why should I take you to another country?"

"Because I told you to?" Marik stated, as if it were the simplest thing ever stated before. His blonde brow quirked, and Ryou let out an irritable sigh. He was stopped from answering, however, as Bakura entered the front door, swinging open the wood and grinning savagely as he saw the two men standing in his living room.

"You're off work," Ryou greeted, nodding his head and grabbing frantically at this one chance to possibly deter Marik from his current mission. Bakura grunted in response, before removing his trench-coat. He tossed it carelessly onto the carpet, before shoving a hand into his jeans and strolling over, standing next to Marik.

"Did you ask him yet?" Bakura questioned, crimson eyes regarding the blonde beside him casually. "About Africa?"

"Yes," Marik huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at the smaller white-haired male. "He told me no."

"Oh, well that won't do," Bakura chuckled, voice low and rich as he strode forward, staring directly into his hikari's eyes with a predatory grin. "I think you will be taking us to Africa, landlord."

"I think I will not!" Ryou responded calmly, and turned around on his heel. "I think I'm going to go take a shower, and curl up happily asleep with Glimmer." Glimmer was Ryou's little orange kitten, that often wore a shiny gold collar.

"You'll regret saying no," was Bakura's eerie response. Ryou watched doubtfully as the albino dragged Marik away to his bedroom. The little hikari wasn't quite sure what to think about this predicament, but he wasn't exactly going to spit in the gift-horse's mouth, either. He was going to enjoy this one, quiet moment of peace away from psychotic people in his home.

Smiling slightly, he wandered to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and enjoyed himself.

-(-o-)-

Ryou toweled himself off, and pulled on light grey sweat pants and a simple blue t-shirt. Bare-feet smacking the tile, he left the bathroom, tying his wet hair into a sloppy ponytail. The dripping strands were causing his light shirt to stick to his back in an uncomfortable way, but at least it wasn't all of his hair tickling his shoulder blades.

Sighing, he strolled down the hall, and paused outside of his bedroom. For some reason, he was hesitant to enter. An eerie feeling seemed to ooze from the cracks of the door, permeating the air and causing a slight shiver to wrack his body.

A stench seemed to circulate the air, almost like a dried corpse left to rot in the sun, or an earthworm slapped onto a hot trash-can, just to hear it sizzle. Gulping, Ryou's dry throat scraped against itself, and he tentatively grasped the door knob, before turning it, and throwing open his door.

A strangled scream ripped itself from his throat.

Glimmer, Ryou's sweet, lovable, and poor kitty, had been dismembered. Not even by the mercy of a knife. No, no. The poor pussy had had its legs ripped from his body, strings of muscle straining against each other as the cat was probably alive long enough to feel his arms pop and unhinge as skin ripped and blood spurted.

Gagging slightly, Ryou supported himself against the door frame and stared at the body parts strewn all about his nice carpet, blood seeping through the soft surface. His kitten's poor little head was mounted on one of the poles of Ryou's bed, showing the cat's face locked in a gaping, yowl of fear. Ryou couldn't believe he hadn't heard.

And there, written across the walls, was Bakura's small handwriting, easily spelling out 'Take us to Africa'.

Collapsing to his knees, Ryou felt hot tears press against his gelatinous orbs, before managing to sneak their ways from beneath the spheres, splashing warm and salty against his pallid features, face turning red as he cried and sobbed.

"Glimmer," Ryou whispered, staring hatefully at the message on the wall.

But really, did Ryou even have a choice anymore?  
>-(-o-)-<p>

Ryou sat in a truck that Bakura had stolen from somebody. He had been left waiting outside this reserve for a while, not understanding where the hell his two psychos were. Looking back now, Ryou shouldn't have let them go alone at all. Marik had said it was 'imperative to their mission', and that honestly should've been a major clue.

Shaking his head, however, the boy merely peered out of the window, chocolate eyes narrowed as he scanned the surrounding area for the two men. It was unbearably hot out here, and this truck didn't even have heating. It was merely an open safari-type thing, which, had they been elsewhere, probably would've helped ventilate the area.

As it was, this was not helping.

Growling irritably, Ryou kicked the glove box, and crossed his arms over his chest, wincing as the sweat pressed against his skin. Clucking in disgust, he peeled the cotton away from his body. When he had finished that, he shifted his gaze to the side again.

Just to see something large and pink rushing towards him.

The pink thing (Ryou had yet to identify it) was running full-throttle towards the car, squawking and flapping its wings in an irritated way, feathers leaping from its body in frantic disarray as its head bobbed.

Mouth dropping open, Ryou recognized the two idiots riding on the-yes Ryou could tell now-the Flamingo.

"RYOU!" The loud, obnoxious voice split the hot evening air, and a gold shimmering hand reached high into the air, waving frantically as the other hand gripped his Flamingo, attempting to control the beast.

Behind Marik, Bakura was sitting near the Flamingos rump, legs crossed with a cruel smirk on his face, as if he went Flamingo riding daily. Which, for all Ryou knew, it was a high possibility.

Still gaping, Ryou watched as the large pink bird ground to a halt, right before the car. Marik slid down from the avian, and patted its glossy but frazzled feathers, ignoring the hyperventilating sounds coming from its gaping beak.

"You're mine now," Marik purred, pressing his face into the crook of the beautiful bird's neck. "You're my Binky."

Bakura slid off of the bird as well, and glared irritably at the sappy Marik, making huffy noises each time Marik's hands stroked a feather.

"Bakura! What the hell?" Ryou demanded, glaring immediately at the Spirit of the Ring. The albino sniffed, and tossed his head, white hair flowing behind him, as his bat-wings bounced above him.

"Marik wanted a Flamingo, because when he was a kid, he saw one of those pacifiers in a magazine-along with a motorcycle-and it was in the shape of a Flamingo. They're often called 'binkies', so he's always wanted one."

"You judge me and I'll butt-fuck you with a pole," Marik commented, but kept himself pre-occupied with his new companion- Binky.

"Oh my Gods..." Ryou moaned, slapping a hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You two are complete _idiots_."

"I can keep him, though, right?" Marik questioned eagerly, patting Binky and leaping about, startling the grumpy bird. Marik paid Binky's mood no heed, however, and began strangling the bird with another hug.

"I... Dammit, all right!" Ryou barked. "Please just... Let's just go home. I'd like to hold a proper burial for Glimmer before he decomposes in that old shoe box."

"YAY!" Marik cried, and dragged Binky over to the truck, hopping over the rusted sides of it and scrambling into the bed. Bakura and Ryou winced as they heard all of his gold grinding and squealing against the metal components. Before long, Binky was hoisted over the edge, and Marik began chatting up a storm with the bird.

"I hate you both," Ryou muttered mutinously as he hopped in the truck.

"I know," Bakura chuckled. "I know."

-(-o-)-

**Flamingos are five feet tall, but shut up. This is crack.**

**Anyways, this is my head-canon... Stuff that I think of sitting in class, and talking to pantslessparadox on Tumblr. :l**

**Don't judge.**

**(**I can just go ahead and tell you; Bakura gets a PMS-ing tiger named Johnson, Marik has Binky, Ryou has a baby yeti named Jizz, and Mariku has a snake named Penis.**)**

**...  
><strong>


	27. Chapter 27: New Pharaoh

**New Pharaoh**

**Pairings: Citronshipping**

**Rated: Nc-17**

Marik stared at the dead, crumpled body of the Pharaoh, bloodying up Marik's new throne room. With a twisted smirk settling across his face, Marik launched a viscious kick into the Pharaoh's ribs, causing a sickening crack to punctuate the quiet air, allowing the sickening, shlucking sound of blood reach the stunned guards' ears.

"I am your new Pharaoh," Marik snarled, shoving his blonde hair back from his face and pointing bloodied fingers at the guards. Brushing the pads together, he allowed the clicking of skin against skin to reverabrate around the voluminous room, chuckling darkly as the guards ushered forwards, scrambling over top each other to stand before their new ruler.

"I have a secret job for you two," Marik whispered softly, drawing the men closer to him, before placing a hand on each of their cheeks. "You see, I already have someone to serve as my guard, and I'm sure he's much more competent then you."

Dubious expressions crossed the guards dark faces, and they immediatly showed suspicions and doubt. It was clear from the flickering fear beneath their glass-like eyes that they wished for nothing more then to escape from the fleshy claws holding them close, but they also knew that to do so would invoke this new Pharaoh's wrath.

The guards' thoughts were cut abruptly short, however, when Marik's hands cricked at the wrist, cocking their necks to the side in one fast stroke, causing them to flop to the ground, heads cracking against the stone floor and adding more noises to the deadly silence.

Shifting his gaze, Marik let out another cool cackle, voice reaching a high pitched squeal as the spine of his neck smacked against his shoulders, as his mouth opened wider and wider, allowing the world to hear his insane howls and guffaws, pealing from between his lips and rejoicing to the Gods with his victory.

"Master Marik," a voice interrupted his cacous laughter, and Marik paused in his shrieks, pausing to lower his deadly gaze to the two men entering Marik's new palace. One of them was large and tall, tanned cape billowing about his dark skin and revealing a muscular body. His black ponytail fluttered on the faint stirrings of a breeze as he strode up towards Marik, his master.

"Odion," Marik greeted, bobbing his head with a cruel smirk as he aknowledged his newly appointed guard. "Welcome." With that, the blonde turned to face the other addition to the party.

The second man had a mop of grey hair encircling his face, tips curling up to brush against his cheekbones, practically tickling the underside of his eyes in a playful way. Messy strands of hair stuck up all over, giving the man a type of rogueish look that made Marik smirk.

His broad shoulders were covered with a long flowing red robe, cashmere cloth flickering in and out of view and showing off the golden bracelets, ankletts, and rings glistening about his person. Hardened eyes peered up at Marik with a devilish glint, smirk splaying across his face and wrinkling the pink scar stretched taught against his dark skin.

"You did it," the grey haired man rumbled, eyes ticking cautiously to the dead Pharaoh's body, and then focusing in on the dead guards. "Congratulations."

"I couldn't have done it without you and Odion's help," Marik purred, spinning the weave of the game they often played, tripping about their attraction in front of Odion, and never hinting at anything more then comrades on a trip together, sharing that similar goal.

"Yes, well, we did just happen to take out a few hundred guards for you; no big deal or anything," Akefia purred, eyes slanting in the most gentle of ways, revealing what he wanted. Marik, however, decided to ignore it for the moment, and instead moved to Odion, dropping down onto his knees and wrapping his arms about his kneeling servant's shoulders.

"Rise, Odion. Prepare a bath for me. I wish to bathe in that wondorous bath that was the Pharaohs," Marik bade, waving a hand to the farther off rooms of the Pharaoh's palace. Odion immediatley complied. As soon as the other man was gone, strong arms wrapped about Marik's waist, and all to son there was the feeling of a soft tongue stroking the shell of his hear, slipping down to tease with his earring, jerking at the lobe.

"Now now," Marik whispered, twirling in Akefia's grasp and pressing the small of his back into the thief's sensitive fingers, loving the feeling of their calloused surfaces pressing against his tender flesh. "Behave," the blonde muttered, leaning forward and letting his lips linger a hairs-breadth from his lovers, letting their breath mingle in a tantalizing, bitter-sweet solution within the air.

Brushing nose tips, Marik moved closer, still not quite touching, his chest hovering so close to Akefia's own, and his fingers danced along the thief's clothed biceps, brining a bout of gooseflesh upon the others darker skin.

"Marik," Akefia snarled, moving forward to finally kiss his lover. The blonde smirked coyly, however, and ducked low, making the thief collide with his forehead, lips staying there to press softly againt the skin.

"You're in to much of a rush," Marik responded, breaking free of Akefia's needy grasp, and strolling towards the throne. "I can't have you finishing before our bath, now can I?" Propping a hip out, the blonde new very well how Akefia was watching every fold of his sarong, reveling in the sight of Marik' ass being outline, and the bead of sweat arcing down Marik's thigh.

"Gods," Akefia groaned, feeling his blood rushing through his body, and stroking a certain part of his body, only fueled more by the thought of Marik above him, moving in fluid motions and loving on the thief.

"Go to the harem rooms," Marik commanded, plopping down on the throne and purposfully spreading his legs, though he kept that particular area in the shade, hiding what Akefia truly wanted to see.

Grumbling, Akefia did as commanded, however. He didn't like being ordered around, but he could deal with it this time, especially since he knew what Marik wanted, and that he would be rewarded most graciously in the end.

Watching the thief recede, Marik smirked, and stared towards where Odion had disappeared to. Rising from his seat, Marik moved off down the hall, smirking as he smelled the insence and oils that were no doubt being spread about by Odion, all to please his master.

-(-o-)-

Marik stared at the scented water, taking a deep draw of the scent and allowing it to reside within his nostrils. A small smile littered his face, and he stretched his legs out, thighs muscles twitching and pumping as he allowed his body to unwind itself.

Gazing around, he saw Odion exit the room, finally done. Chuckling, Marik removed his clothes, and slid to the edge of the large pool of water. Slipping his feet in, he reveled in the warm water that soaked his skin, sliding along his slender legs and giving him a feeling of luxury. A feeling Marik would be getting a lot of from now on.

Sliding fully into the bath, Marik sunk down to his chin, body relaxing and floating in the water, freeing himself of the tension that had built up over time. The tension of planning and working to over-throw the Pharaoh.

Leaning his head back against the tile, he closed his eyes, humming softly to himself and sending ripplets of water springing across the water, causing petals to flip and sink from the vibrations of his vocal cords.

Suddenly, a dark shadow covered his face, and a knowing smirk lit his features as he felt hands kneading at his shoulders, calloused fingers digging roughly into the tendons, massaging out any unwanted kinks, and causing Marik to moan more then once.

Soon followed lips, crashing down on Marik's and trailig upside down kisses along his face and jaw bone, pausing to fiddle with earrings once more.

Cracking open his eyelids, Marik finally rose up out of the water, and turned to face Akefia.

The proud thief was knealing beside the pool, muscular body clad in frilled place lace stretched taut across his chest, with two small holes for the nipples. It was a two piece thing, that had a seperate panties, lacy fabric flashing small little bits of Akefia's manhood, teasing both his lover and himself with desperate flashes and touches.

"Nice choice," Marik muttered, leaning forward and attatching his lips to Akefia's collar bone, lips and teeth moving against the skin and causing the thief to wilt beneath his touch, having to prop himself up on splayed palms.

"I figured you'd like it," Akefia replied, reaching a hand up and tangling it in Marik's blonde hair, attemteping to bring them closer then humanly possible. Marik paused, however, and drew back, sitting down on the edge of the basin and resting a hand on Akefia's muscular thigh, tracing patterns along the inside of it, grinning at the twitching skin beneath his adventurous digit.

"I'm the Pharaoh now," Marik said simply, and ignored Akefia's furrowed brow. Sliding his finger along, Marik slipped it into the waistband of the panties, and tugged at them, causing them to rub against Akefia's hardening cock.

"Gods," Akefia groaned, bucking slightly, causing Marik to laugh.

"I'm saying I'm the Pharaoh. So you pleasure me," with that, Marik watched as Akefia's eyes narrowed. His silver eyebrow twitched, but he still crawled forwards, arms locking into place, and his elbow straightening out as he prowled towards the newly appointed Pharaoh, ass in the air as he slid his way up to Marik.

Moving his hips forward, Akefia slid into Marik's lap, and pressed down on Marik's own boner, grinning as he saw Marik bite his lip, attemping to hold in the sounds no doubt waiting to burst from between his softened lips.

Twisting his neck, Akefia dropped his mouth lower, suckling at Marik's adam's apple, and smirking as he felt the vibrations rumble through the skin, just to break out and shiver through Akefia's teeth and tongue.

Dropping lower, he began licking and suckling at Marik's chest, roaming every inch of the new Pharaoh's heaving chest, enjoying the barely audible sounds making their way from the blonde's delicious mouth.

Hands reaching out, Akefia grasped Marik's cock, and stroked the base of it, teasing it and making it harder then before. Marik groaned aloud this time, with no restraint, only to rise in volume as Akefia's lips surrounded the turgid flesh.

"Gods!" Marik gasped, and bucked into the thief's mouth. Akefia just chuckled, and slid his tongue along the tip, gathering the pre-cum within the folds of his tongue. Beneath him, the Pharaoh squirmed, gasping and attempting desperatly to make Akefia take it deeper.

With a sadistic cackle, though, Akefia just held his lover's hips in place, and went slow, taking it in as agonizingly slow as he could, though it was certainly not helping him either.

Finally, though, Marik reached out a hand, tangling it roughly in Akefia's messy hair, and jerking the thief up to share a kiss with him, pressing the Pharaoh's boner roughly against the other man's chest.

"You're so hard," Akefia teased, breaking the kiss in favor of flickering his tongue across Marik's sweat lathered chest.

"As are you," the Pharaoh returned, before pushing Akefia away, making the man sit on all fours. Akefia's knees pressed roughly against the stone, and it dug into his palms, but all he could do was shudder with anticipation as he felt Marik behind him, hands gripping his ass and dipping down, dragging his long tongue everywhere but the entrance point, even going so far as to trace the thigh and brush against his balls.

Reaching out a hand, Marik grasped a bottle of lotion, and squirted it onto his fingers, relishing in the intoxicating scent. He shifted the lace underwear to the side, and pressed his fingers out, Marik pushed them into Akefia's entrance, moving them in and out, allowing Akefia to become used to the feeling.

"Dammit, Marik," Akefia snarled, "right fucking now!"

All he recieved was a sharp smack to the ass, and dark, amused chuckle. "Do I need to spank you more?" Marik muttered in a dark voice, moving forward and pressing his back against Akefia's, cock nudging the area between Akefia's thigh.

"Ah... No," Akefia grumbled, "just come on. Please, I suppose," he attempted. Suddenly, he felt another vicious smack, before hands gripped his waist roughly. Akefia let out a small noise of expectance, and gritted his teeth as Marik's large length pushed into him.

"Marik," he mumbled breathlessly, and felt Marik squeeze his hips in answer. Before long, the Pharaoh was moving in and out of Akefia, pounding into the proud thief from behind, and loving the racous cries the fell from the saliva coated lips of him.

"Gods!" Akefia cried once more, and felt himself cum, the sperm shooting out and covering the floor. Slumping over to his elbows, Akefia's forehead rested against his forearms as Marik continued to go at him, until finally he, too, finished.

Pulling out, the blonde flopped down, practically dripping with sweat, and salt tracks evident on the curvatures of his muscles.

"That was hella good," Marik muttered, almost incoherently.

"Damn right," Akefia chuckled, "but what better way to greet the Pharaoh?"

-(-o-)-

**Okay, based loosely off of head-canon characters that me and pantsless apparently have going on... xD**


	28. Chapter 28: Bakura's Birthday

**~Crack, head-canon, and heavily implied smut cuz I'm lazy~**

Bakura slid the black covered package to the side, purple hanger resting nicely atop the plush surface of Bakura's bed. After all, it had to happen in Bakura's bed, never Marik's. The blonde would pop a nut if he ever suggested they fuck in his bed.

Sighing, Bakura stared at the calendar, eyebrow twitching sligthly with anticipation as he waited for Marik to come storming in. Flopping down on the side of the bed, Bakura lounged there, until he heard the front door opening.

"Hello?" Marik called. "Bunny, are you here?" the boy called, obnoxious voice ringing through their small apartment. Bakura huffed, but smirked at the usage of the nickname. It had something to with what was about to conspire within these walls.

"In my room!" Bakura called back, hoarse voice cracking slightly as he raised it. Pausing, he slid a tongue along his lips, before allowing a devilish smirk to splay across his narrow face. Soon, a blonde mop of hair poked its way through the doorway, lavender eyes shimmering from beneath spiky bangs as he regarded Bakura with curiosity.

"What're you doing?" Marik questioned, clearly suspicious as to why is whore was lounging about for no good reason. Bakura frowned. He'd halfway hoped that Marik would bother to remember his birthday, but he supposed that didn't matter.

Slinking from his position, Bakura slid over to Marik, grabbing the pimp my his feathered jacket as he pulled the boy along with him, offering a coy smile and a sultry look that told Marik good and well what was about to happen. Or, what he _thought_ was going to happen.

Pulling Marik into a kiss, he felt the blonde immediatly melting into it, his arms looping about Bakura's waist to pull the shorter man closer to him. Bakura grinned, and reached his own pallied appendages up, wrapping about Marik's neck, pressing himself up on tip toe, getting as close as he could to Marik.

He could taste Akefia on the blonde, but with a few swipes of his tongue, that was gone, and all there was was Bakura, and he felt a surge of pride. Simply because, for this small moment, Marik was truly _his_. There was no sharing with the cross-dressing Thief King. At least, not until the morning.

Pushing on their bodies, Bakura shuffled them to the bed, where he shoved Marik backwards ontot he plush surface. The blonde bounced uncomfortably, and Bakura watched as his bare legs went into the air, attemping to keep his balance around the voluminous, ridiculous coat Marik insisted on wearing.

"You're going to bottom for me," Bakura panted, pointing to the black covered outfit off to the side. "Wearing that." Marik made a noise of argument, but Bakura held up a finger. "Today's my birthday Marik. Remember what you promised me?" A cruel grin overtook him, and he watched Marik flounder pathetically.

"Fine," the blonde muttered mutinously, slipping off his jacket, leaving him clad only in his blue thong. Reaching down, he grabbed the hanger, and ignored Bakura's lustful gaze as he watched Marik strut from the room, attempting to keep his dignity about him.

Bakura merely wriggled expectantly out of his britches, and slipped his shirt over his shoulders, shuddering from the slight cold. It felt good, though, for once, that he was the one still in boxers, and not prancing around in those Godforsaken skirts that Marik seemed to love seeing him in.

Purring slightly, Bakura imagined in his mind what the proud Egyptian boy would look like now. No doubt he'd come in here complaining and whining all the while. But that was fine, because Bakura slid a hand into his pants pocket, and retracted a small contraption. Silently, he slipped it beneath the covers, and waited, looking as innocent as a half-naked man could hope to look.

The sound of high heels attratced his attention, and he prepared himself to laugh at Marik's misfortune. As it was, he ended up just making a strangled noise as he stared at the boy now leaning against the door frame, and irritated expression currently upon his face.

"You're an asshole," Marik announced huffily, crossing his arm over the tight black leotard that now clung to his body, stopping at the chest area. Beneath it, it appeared he had opted to not where the fishnet pantyhose, seeing as his smooth legs were clearly visible, legs gowing down before turning into feet, trapped in black, glistening shoes. Atop his head were large, dangly, fake purple bunny ears, made seemingly of some type of velvet. On the back, positioned right over the ass, was a small little inconspicious lavender bunny tale.

"Mm," was Bakura's intelligent response, as he motioned for Marik to join him on the bed. The blonde strutted over, sticking his butt out momentarily to waggle it aorund, eying the little bunny tail.

"I do comend you for getting everything in pink, however," Marik commented, ignoring the way Bakura stared at him, tongue occasionally darting out. Continuing his walking, Marik flopped down on the bed, and crossed his legs, eying the obvious bulge in Bakura's pants.

Arching a blonde eyebrow, Marik gave a short, rude laugh.

"If you think I'm letting you fuck me, you're sorely mistaken," Marik grumbled. "And whn I said 'on your birthday you could top', I meant that I would have to choose when or if you got to." Bakura glowered, as Marik flicked bangs from his eyes.

"Oh really?" the Spirit questioned, lips curling as he slid a pale hand out, pressing the button that lay hidden beneath his blanket. Marik immediatly reacted, a small moan coming from his lips as his body shook slightly. He fell back onto his elbows, arching his back and pushing his hips into the air as vibrations carried throughout his body.

Laughing, Bakura released his hold on the button, and watched as Marik collapsed to the bed, panting and blinked incredulously. He turned to face Bakura, flushed cheeks evident as he stared, wide-eyed, at Bakura.

"Y-You," Marik muttered. His brain finally pieced it together, and he lurched forward, ready to punch the hoe.

"Ah, ah, ah," Bakura tutted, pressing the button again. Marik's rage calmed immediatly, and he dropped to all fours, mewling like a kitten as his body was pleasure from the small little bunny tail.

Again, Bakura released the button, and slid forward, dragging Marik into a kiss. The blonde succumbed, knowing that if not, Bakura would just use the tail againt him. Moaning, Marik leaned in, pressing his chest and hardened cock against Bakura, rubbing at the man to get friction. He supposed he could deal with bottoming this one time, after all.

Bakura grinned happily, and pushed Marik back, straddling the boy. He lowered his cold lips down to Marik's ear and slid his tongue along the shell of it, muttering small words that were meaningless the moment they left his lips as his hands roamed Marik's body, for once being in control of the boy beneath him.

"I think you'll enjoy this," Bakura mumbled, kissing Marik again, before movingo unsnap the back of the leotard.

-(-o-)-

Bakura awoke immediatly as he heard the bed creak. Not letting on that he was awake, Bakura rolled over slightly, keeping his eyes opened only by a tiny slit as he watched Marik exit the bed, and head over to the closet.

"Mar," Bakura groaned, sitting up. "Where the hell are you going?" he demanded. He had expected Marik to leave- he always did- but he usually at least stayed long enough to make breakfast.

"Date with Akefia," Marik responded, rifling through his clothes, before finally extracting a decent looking outfit. "It's easier then paying for him, and cheaper, too. Plus more fun," the blonde added as an after-thought.

Bakura's eyes narrowed, and he snorted hatefully. "What about breakfast?" he questioned. After all, Marik knew damned good and well that Bakura could burn water. Hell, burn air, if neccesary!

"Can't you go bug Amane with that?" the blonde questioned, tugging on his new clothes, before hobbling over to Bakura. "Either that or go to a fastfood place or something. You have the money from whoring around," Marik pointed out, voice dripping with bitter anger, and what seemed like jealousy.

Bakura shook his head. No sense in thinking like that... They were fuck buddies, and that's all they ever would be.

"Now good-bye, dove," Marik mumbled, leaning forward and kissing Bakura's forehead. The spirit hated to admit it, but he felt a shock of happiness glide through his body from those words, and especially from the kiss.

"Whatever," Bakura spat. "Just go meet up with the cross-dresser all ready," he muttered mutinously, watching as Marik left.

Curling up in bed, he stared moodily at the carpet.

"Happy birthday to me," he muttered bitterly.

-(-o-)-

**Haha... Ha... Ha... I REGRET FUCKING NOTHING.**

**Not really happy with this, so I guess you can beat me with Amane's pimp stick, LadySunami... This was more characterization, it seems...xD And there, for all you Bakura-topping fans...**

**Okay, based off the head-canon and a few other things:  
>ht tp:  askhobakura. tumblr. com/**

**On it, Bakura said he always wanted to see Marik dressed as a bunny, cuz Marik always uses that nickname for him. That, and in the RP, Marik said Bakura could top 'on his birthday'.**

**And this picture:  
>ht tp:  jllunar. / post/ 9527337919/ l-its-fucking-finished-i-dont-really-like**

**And the conversation that swiftly followed.**

**Um... I've never actually USED vibrator, so all of this is from other stuff I've read, which you can probably tell. :D**

**This was initially going to be a Rogueshipping three-way, but then I said 'fuck that shit'. Three-ways are a bitch to write, seeing as I don't even REALLY much care for smut.**

**On the BRIGHTside, I have a new gore story planned, and the possibility of a fluffy... Thing. And a fluff/possible tragedy thing.**

**Ah well, reviews are-as always- loved.**

**Seeya!**

**(**on a side note... looking at goshi's new comic strip... Bakura... I dunno what happened with your dick between panels one and three, but that's not healthy, and you're going to kill Marik with that thing. :l Seriously, you'd fucking stimulate a mare**)**

**I tried to watch my language... I think it worked. -nod nod-**


	29. Chapter 29: Forever

**Forever**

**Rated: T**

**Warnings: Gore, mild Thiefshipping, Possesive!Marik (**unf bitches**)  
><strong>

A beautiful pond stretched wide, tickling the sandy beach that had formed around it, causing small little puddles to pool up between rocks. Plenty of smaller organisms inhabited the area, furrowing beneath the ground, or splashing above and below the water, blissfully uncaring of the two larger beings resting in the grass off to one of the sloping sides that was missing its sandy edge, and instead invited people to rest upon its splendorous, emerald blanket.

The bigger boy rolled onto his side, caramel skin glistening with droplets from his previous dunk within the azure depths of the pond. His flaxen hair stuck to his flushed cheeks, and sparkling lavender eyes peered through black lashes, staring lovingly at the smaller man beside him.

"Oh, Bakura," Marik purred, leaning down and tracing the white haired boys lips with a tentative finger. A wet tongue slithered out and lapped softly at Marik's tip, a grin splitting the white man's features as he watched Marik with glimmering red eyes.

"Marik," Bakura muttered in return, soft smiled splaying across his lips as he lifted willowy fingers to trickle along Marik's neck, tracing the contours of the throbbing veins, pausing to feel the delectable beatings of his human heart.

"Bakura," Marik mumbled, lowering his face to the other man's, trailing kisses across a pallid chest, fingertips brushing the pads against the soft skin, stretching it softly beneath his probing fingers, causing Bakura's body to begin to flush a soft red color, specifically around the hand area, and where muscles and joints bent.

"Mm, what is it?" the paler one queried, tilting his head back slightly, graceful neck bending like a swan's, going backwards and allowing his dove-white hair to brush against the blushing weeds beneath them, masking themselves as beautiful flowers.

"I want you to always be with me," the blonde whispered in return, soft, velvety bangs brushing just barely against Bakura's bared skin, small tendrils tickling the surface, causing goose-flesh to erupt.

Bakura paused, and looke down at Marik, face showing obvious signs of puzzlement as he regarded his lover. "I'm with you right now," Bakura grumbled, "should that not be enough for you? We can't control what the future holds, Marik," he warned, holding up a finger, and pressing it against Marik's collar bone, pushing the larger boy back a bit.

Marik's face twisted angrily, ruining the angelic image he'd been projecting just moments before. His breath sped up, and his teeth clenched, eyebrows drawing together in a savage movement as he glared angrily up at Bakura.

"I don't need to know what the future will hold," Marik snarled, grinding his canines together as he pushed the tip of his tongue against the tips of them, releaving some of the stress he felt radiating deep from within him. "I don't need to know," he hissed, "because I will control it."

"Marik," Bakura started, tone warning as he held up a slender digit, watching the blonde in a reproachful manner. "Marik, control your temper," he requested, before flickering a hand through his soft white hair. "And you cannot control the future, Marik, you just cannot."

The blonde let out another noise of irritation, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Seeing as he was on all fours, he crawled closer, shoulder bones popping and jumping beneath the skin of his back as he slid forward, shoving Bakura back down against the grass.

"You will be mine!" Marik shouted angrily into his face, spittle flying from between his moving lips as Bakura let out a noise of surprise. He pressed himself farther back against the grass, not quite understanding Marik's motives for the moment.

"Marik," Bakura mumbled, voice strangely quiet after the ferocious call of the angry male towering above him. "Marik, I think... I think perhaps we should take a break from each other," he reasoned, hoping to possibly abate some of Marik's anger.

It appeared to do the exact opposite.

"FUCK YOU!" Marik shouted, hand shooting out to grasp Bakura's slender neck, crushing it beneath his long, dark fingers, fingernails pressing sharply agains the surface of Bakura's skin. His nails pricked the surface, and caused droplets of blood to slide from beneath them, dying the normally lightly colored nails a ruby color.

"You will be with me!" Marik screamed, pressing harder, feeling Bakura's neck snap within his grasp. He saw the man he loved go limp, but he said nothing, keeping his grip in place as he continued to press inwards, until his fingers could touch through the spongy skin, and blood leaked from Bakura's lips.

Ducking his head down, Marik drew his tongue along the blood, and retracted his hand, swirling the crimson blood about in his mouth as he did so, loving the copper tang and the way it accented sharply with the sweet taste of Bakura's cold, cold lips.

"We'll be together forever," Marik whispered, shoving his tongue into Bakura's mouth, prying open his dead lover's mouth. "Forever," he promised, stroking the still tongue, almost wanting it to come play with him once more.

But after all, Marik preferred this.

He had his control.

He had his power.

Whether Bakura was alive or not was inconsequential.

-(-o-)-

**Aha~ So I finally sat down and wrote this.**

**-Glares angrily at it-**

**FUCK**

**Seriously, outside of derpy one-shots on Tumblr (**that I actually need to go finish -whistles innocently-**) and the awesome-tastic RP going, I fell behind on updating... Well... EVERYTHING.**

**I apologize~**

**Well, please review, and I will hopefully be sitting down to write on Earth and Fire, unless Peacock distracts me and I dig myself deeper.**

**:D**

**See ya!**


	30. Chapter 30: SheWolf

**She-Wolf**

**Rated: T/M**

**Warning: Mentions of sex; gore**

**Pairings: Angst, Thief, Heart, Revolution**

Bakura stared about, and, as much as he hated it, he was clinging to Ryou's hand. He'd never been in crowded places like this, and it made him uneasy. He was so used to his small white room back at home, that these bright noises and lights were pounding at his head in the most uncomfortable of ways.

His parents had kept him locked up, under the pretense of him being 'delusional' and dangerous, all due to one tiny incident back in kindergarten where he'd sharpened a crayon, wielded it at a teacher, just to instead take a chair and slam it into the man's calves, breaking his legs.

However, Bakura had recently turned twenty one, and he was ready to go. He'd stayed in his room for far to long, while he watched Ryou, his older brother, disappear time and time again into the night with a blonde haired man. Sometimes, Bakura had pressed his face up against the pane of the glass, breathing heavily as he pretended it was he the blonde man was pulling along instead of Ryou.

The only thing Bakura ever saw of him, however, was a flash of sharp teeth (no doubt the cause of the angry red marks Ryou often sported across his collar bone and back), a dazzling grin, and the flash of golden hair, and what sometimes appeared to be ears.

However, the one time Bakura had questioned Ryou, he'd been given a telling to, and then the elder brother had stormed from the room, shouting something about the mall. But Bakura knew better.

He was meeting the blonde man.

Bakura remembered well one time, when he'd actually heard them. The blonde man, usually, only came to Ryou's window to collect the boy, before scurrying away. Hardly ever did they stay around- to risky, after all, that they would awaken someone.

This time was different though. He could hear mumbled voices, and the shuffling of clothes. It was at that point Bakura realized his parents weren't home-they were off to some dinner, or something.

Gulping, Bakura kept his lights off, and slid over to the window, pressing his pallid hands to the glass, mouth dropping slightly at what he saw.

The blonde man had his brother pinned roughly to the ground, face into the dirt as he slid into the smaller boy, pounding Ryou doggy-style. Bakura felt a stirring in his pants, and blushed, allowing his hand to sneak lower, and unbuckle his pants.

With each breath he heard the blonde man take, he stroked himself, pretending it was he underneath that muscular body, and it was he being showed a good time. He blocked out his brother's groans and moans, and focused solely on the rough voice that was even louder, and so much more enticing.

When Bakura had finished, he had quickly hurried to clean the mess. After that, he'd been wary whenever his brother was around, foolishly thinking that Ryou could've somehow seen Bakura jerking off to his lover.

But, that had been a few years back, and the visit from the blonde man had stopped. Ryou never mentioned him again, but he'd never left Bakura's mind. So now, here they stood, and Bakura couldn't get the ridiculous conception out of his head that quite possibly he'd see the blonde man here tonight.

"C'mon, Bakura," Ryou grumbled, "I need to meet up with Yugi."

"I don't want to tag along, just to watch you dry hump him," Bakura snarled in protest. This may have been one of his first times out, but he knew that would not be enjoyable.

"Ugh," Ryou grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine... If I leave you on your own, can you promise to meet me back up front in about an hour?"

"Yeah, I guess," Bakura grumbled mutinously, stuffing his hands into his pockets and slouching over. Ryou had picked this outfit for him, and he was not enjoying it. It consisted of a fishnet top with a black wife beater atop it, and black saggy pants that just barely stayed on Bakura's hips, more often then not flashing his blue boxers.

He watched as Ryou melted into the crowd, no doubt running off to find his current boyfriend. Glaring at nothing, Bakura squirmed his way through the crowd of people, wondering if there was any food within the vicinity.

Finally spotting some pizza, he let out a noise of triumph, but was quickly bowled over by an over-exited girl, and her reluctant friend. The excited one had purple hair flapping about her face as she bounced about, pink dress barely covering her ass, and tube top showing her meager chest.

The normal one, being held closed to the purple haired girl, was your average brunette, who was actually dressed quite normally, all considering.

"Yami's waiting for me," the brown haired one complained. "C'mon, Miho, I don't have time to go see this Marik person," she grumbled, tugging futilely at her arm, attempting to wrench it free from Miho's grasp.

"No! Anzu!" Miho whined, ignoring Bakura as he struggled back to his feet, weighed down by the heavy clothing. "He's called the 'Golden Man'!" she squealed, heat coming to her features. Bakura froze at the name, and stared at Miho. "It's said that he take a new lover every once and a while," she whispered, voice dropping dramatically. "He sneaks to them at night, before leaving them after about a year," she mumbled. "And tonight, he's supposed to be picking a new one!"

"Congratulations," Anzu replied drily, "but my pussy's not aching for him, all right? Now let me get back to my boyfriend." Finally wrenching herself free, Anzu stalked off, heading off to find that 'Yami' fellow.

"Hey! Girl!" Bakura barked, not caring how rude he sounded. Miho turned to regard Bakura with a distasteful look, and gave a sniffle, before plopping a hand on her hip and jutting it out.

"What do you want?" she mused, clearly trying to appear 'hard to get'. To Bakura, however, she just looked 'easy to bitch slap with that pizza box over there and see how grease looks smeared across her face with blood.'

"I want to know about this Golden Man," Bakura demanded. "Who and where is he?" he questioned, not caring about the rudeness of it all. Miho looked affronted for a moment, before just deciding she didn't care. Shaking her head, she tossed her hands into the air, and commanded that Bakura follow her.

And follow he did...

-(-o-)-

Bakura pushed through the crowd. They were nearing a dingy part of the club, where the lights flickered, and people appeared to be wearing rather large cloaks. Bakura was on edge, but Miho seemed perfectly fine. In fact, she skipped happily along, humming an out of key tune as she strutted.

A light bulb popped above Bakura's head, and he let out an irritated growl as spark flitted through the darkened area. All he could think was that this better be who he was looking for.

Striding forward, he was pleased to see a door appear through the flickering gloom. Miho reached it first, and opened it, allowing Bakura to enter along with her. The change in scenery was immediate.

Plush cushions were strewn across a plush, lavender carpet, all of the cushions a different, varying shade of purple. Candles flickered about in holders, all shaped like a large bird's claw, hooking about the base of the wax, and hoisting the sources of light higher, giving wondrous, welcome light to the room.

The flames did cause an eerie effect, however, on the throne, seated at the far back of the room. It was a large, ornate, golden chair, with black velvet padding atop it, rushing over like liquid to trail to the bottom, curling about the clawed feet. A man was seated atop it all, dressed in tight leather pants, and shirtless. The only thing he wore, seemingly, aside from his britches, was the golden jewelry clasped tightly about his forearms, neck, and the glittering rings of all different designs on each finger.

A delicious smirk etched its way across his bronzed features, and lilac eyes narrowed behind black rimmed eyes. His blonde bangs hung low, brushing against the lids of his eyes as he watched Bakura enter. And Bakura knew it was him.

The glistening, liquid gold hair that cascaded in layers down to his shoulders, and the wicked grin with sharp, fangs in place. His gaze remained focused upon Bakura, though, and didn't spare Miho even the barest of looks.

"Ryou," the man rumbled, voice scraping its way from his throat, just to frolic across the room to caress Bakura's ear drums, "you know you're not allowed back twice," he tutted, clearly mistaking Bakura for his brother.

"I'm not Ryou," Bakura stated simply, huffing and crossing his arms. "Notice the different hair, and different body?" Snorting, Bakura flipped his hair over his shoulders, ignoring Miho's stunned gasp. "After you've fucked him so many times, I figured you'd know that."

Bakura would be lying if he said he didn't want to stun Marik. In fact, that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to knock the golden man off of his feet, and send him reeling, possibly enough to desire Bakura.

He was surprised, however, when a laugh erupted into the air.

Glaring angrily, Bakura focused in on Marik, who had his head thrown back, body high lighted in all its glory as he slid forward, long legs unstretching themselves as he moved forwards quickly, pacing himself as he strode to Bakura.

"You're dismissed," he said simply to Miho, before his arm was around Bakura's waist, pulling him into Marik's broad chest, and causing his breath to leave him for an instant. He heard Miho make a noise of frustration, before clacking out of the room, irritated, clearly, if her sobs were to tell.

"So, little Bakura," Marik purred, dragging Bakura alongside him. The albino let out a sharp cry as he felt nails piercing his skin, and Marik gave him a dangerous look, daring him to complain. "You want to know what happens to my lovers?"

Bakura's face flushed. That was partially true. In all honesty, he wanted to be one of those lovers...

"Well, then," Marik mumbled, "take a seat," he whispered, shoving Bakura onto a pillow, where he landed with a dull noise.

"Marik I-"

"Hush!" The blonde man commanded, launching a foot forward as it slammed into Bakura's chest. The whittete let out a sharp cry as he felt something undoubtedly crack. Wheezing, he fell backwards, clutching at his chest.

"Good, good," Marik smirked, sliding his booted foot down to Bakura's crotch, where he pressed roughly on his groin. Bakura let out a pained screech as he felt his balls being crushed beneath Marik's persistent touch.

"Namu!" Marik shouted. "Come here!"

Bakura blinked, and through the hazy pain, he sat up, peering about, and noticed a boy, much like Marik, creeping closer.

Except this was wrong.

The little boy was crouched down, spine sticking up out of his naked back. A hungry look was in his dazed eyes as they flitted about within their gelatinous containers. His mouth was lolling open, and an outrageously large tongue dripped from his mouth, teeth scraping against the pink surface, causing blood to dribble down, slapping against the floor with a sickening sound.

As Namu walked, his knuckles scraped the ground, and Bakura could see a trail of his blood left behind. His crooked, bent feet dragged as well, and he marched slowly and deliberately closer to Bakura.

"What the hell...?" Bakura wheezed, sliding backwards, and pressing up against the cushions. He let out a strangled screech as Namu rushed him, suddenly gaining inhuman speed as he launched forward, spindly legs and arms flying in ever direction as he latched onto Bakura's face.

The older boy let out screech as he felt his mouth being wrenched open, and all he could test was hair. Attempting to scream, he felt himself strangling on the arms and head now forcing their way down his throat, ripping his mouth open, and causing his jaw to unhinge.

With one final, strangled cry, he slumped over, the last thing he saw past Namu's kicking feet disappearing within him was Marik, standing up above him, body practically glowing from the candle light, with his face twisted and grotesque, covering in coarse hair, and a snout shoved out from his face.

He had his paws hooked into claws, sharp nails digging into his own flesh as he watched Bakura on the verges of death, having his final spasms. Chuckling harshly, Marik turned his back on Bakura, and exited the room.

It would take a year of instilling the werewolf knowledge into him, but it wouldn't be so bad. Namu wasn't the smartest of them all, but he had chosen a lovely body. Unbuckling his pants, Marik stared down at his blank, genderless body, before passing by a table, and scooping up a gun of sorts, with liquid bubbling within its container.

Attatching it to his hips, he smirked. While Marik didn't have a specific gender, he preferred to be called a male. And, what better way to trick people, then to disguise himself as having a penis?

If anybody caught him teaching Namu his 'lessons', then they'd see it as two horny teenagers having sex.

Smirking, Marik strode back into the room, where Bakura's body lay. Now, with Namu in control, he lifted up a hand, and cracked his jaw back into place, before grinning up at Marik.

"I did good, Master?"

"Yes, slave," Marik purred, striding forward. "You did lovely."

-(-o-)-

Ryou stood up from the bloodied corpse, and glared despondently at the carcass. Yugi hadn't put up much of a fight at all. In fact, he'd gone down quite easily, all considering.

With a defeated sigh, he pulled some flesh from between his teeth, and kicked the body. He'd meant to convert Yugi, just as he was programmed to do, but he had failed his master Marik!

They were supposed to find new people to become werewolves, not eat them! They were agents hand-selected by the Top Dog himself, so to speak. After all, Marik couldn't do it all by himself. He already had to make clones of himself, and teach them to jump into peoples' bodies. And only having a one new person a year would not spread their population. Ryou's job was important, and he'd fucked it up!

Grumbling angrily at himself, he turned away, lapping at the blood on his chin.

"Well, I'm sure I saw Joey somewhere in there..."

-(-o-)-

**PLEASE DON'T ASK I DON'T KNOW THIS STARTED OUT AS THIEFSHIPPING SMUT AND THEN JUST FUCK...**

**Please review. ^_^**


	31. Chapter 31: What Was I Thinking?

Akefia slid his foot down atop the brakes, and cast his gaze around. His tongue prodded his bottom lip, and he switched the dip around in his mouth, before hoisting a bottle to his lips, and proceeded to spit into it a small green bottle clasped in his hand.

Casting his gaze about, he regarded the long stretch of lawn before him. It was overgrown, but not in a disgusting way. Not in the least. He could see a rather large dog moseying its way through the weeds, but aside from that no life inhabited the small place.

Grumbling angrily, Akefia thumped his dashboard, and cursed.

"Dumb ass. 'Oh, I won't be late, Kefi'! Won't be late my _ass_." Akefia growled, glaring mutinously at the dash, not really caring how childish he was being. He didn't like being here right now. He could see the flicker of television coming out through the window pane, where, no doubt, Mr. Ishtar was seated.

Huffing, he turned his key again, ready to get a move on. He couldn't sit around here and wait for Marik all day! If Mr. Ishtar caught sight of him... Chomping hard on his lip, Akefia switched the car on, and prepared to drive away.

He never quite got to put his foot on the gas pedal, however, seeing as all to suddenly there was a shape rushing from round back of the house, feet stomping hard on gravel that squelched beneath brown boots. Akefia blinked, alarmed, before he let out a shriek, as something smacked into his driver side window, causing him to jerk and blast the horn on his truck.

"Fuck!" he heard a voice shrill, before his car door was wrenched open. In a flash of gold and white, something hurtled its way into Akefia's lap, and he let out a pained grunt as he felt his nuts being crushed under what felt suspiciously like a knee.

Akefia jerked as he heard a loud bang coming from the house, and he quickly collected himself, just to glare sideways at the now identified Marik. The blonde boy gave a smirk, before shrugging his shoulders, as if to say this clearly could not be his fault.

Akefia's face said; 'clearly it fucking was your pussy ass's fault seeing as your dumb ass it the nut-cruncher here'. Or, that's what he meant for it to say. If that was indeed the vibe he was giving off, it was unknown, seeing as Marik was sitting there, laughing, ignoring the fact that he could see the large outline of a man rushing back to his gun cabinet, even from the car.

"Fuck me," Akefia snarled, quickly reaching for the steering wheel again as he heard the front door to Marik's house being kicked open. He was stopped from moving, however, as a series of bullets sprinkled his tailgate.

"Are you slow or something?" A voice next to him demanded, and all to quickly Marik's face was practically buried in his lap, hand rushing down to the floor of the truck. Feeling his breath hitch, Akefia stared at Marik's bobbing head as the boy frantically pushed at the gas pedal.

Releasing another curse, Akefia's foot finally took the place of Marik's hand, and the blonde boy resurfaced, laughing all the way as he flopped back into his seat, feet launching themselves high into the air, before clunking down atop the dash, wiggling above the air vent.

"Aw, hot damn!" Marik shouted, pumping a fist into the air. "We're hittn' that Honky Tonk tanight!" Marik exclaimed, bouncing about his seat and making excited noises. Akefia grimaced, and just focused on driving.

"You're fucking dad just shot up my car!" Akefia shouted, when he was sure they were a safe distance away, trees their only scenery in the nighttime as they rolled down the road. Marik may have been his best friend, and he may have a crush on the blonde boy, but this was ridiculous!

"I know!" Marik crooned, quickly reaching for the radio, and cranking it up. "I LOVE THIS SONG!" Marik shouted over the sound of Josh Turner's voice pouring from the speakers. Whatever they'd slipped in Marik's cereal this morning, he wanted some, and he wanted a lot.

Lifting up his free hand, Akefia gripped the dial and popped it back down to a reasonable level, before glaring sideways at Marik. "What the hell's your problem today, Ishtar? And why the fuck are you wearing a tank-top?"

Marik paused, and glared at Akefia, a pout coming across his features. "First of all," Marik huffed, motioning at his body. He was dressed in a white tank-top, hanging loosely about his smaller frame, but showing off his evident muscles. He wore simple blue cut off jeans, with holes ripped in them, and the pockets peaking out behind the frayed ends, and topped it all off with purple cowboy boots. "All my clothes were hangin' outside on the line, so I had to steal clothes from Isis."

"Second of all," Marik continued, ignoring Akefia's laughter, "this is a wife-beater. Not a tank-top. Tank-tops are for girls."

"Which your sister is."

"Shut the hell up," Marik grumbled, flicking Akefia's ear. "I look hella good and you know it!" Akefia sobered up at that, seeing as he couldn't really argue. Marik seemed to be able to tell when he was lying. What was that old saying; takes one to know one? Well, that was certainly true enough. Marik was just a good a liar as he himself, and could spin a yarn better then a two headed snake kneeling before an eagle.

"Whatever," he retorted instead, and focused on the road. "I figured you'd like to stop off and get a bite to eat, though," Akefia prompted, looking sideways at Marik. "I brought some sandwich stuff and cokes," he stated.

"We ain't got time to stop!" Marik admonished, clearly offended by this meager suggestion. Akefia rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness that was Marik Ishtar. "My dad's gonna be sendin' the cops after us here soon!" the blonde explained, before pushing the upper half of his body into the back part of the car, ass wriggling about in a distracting manner as he rifled about the back seat for something.

With a triumphant yelp, Marik popped back into the front seat, and faced a flushed Akefia, jiggling a coke can in front of him. "Nothin' like Dr. Pepper, huh Kefi?" he questioned, popping the top of the coke and pressing the cool surface to his lips, making a contended noise as he slurped down some of the beverage.

Akefia grunted, and watched Marik drink the coke happily. "Thank-you for getting me one, princess," the grey-haired boy said venomously, mostly joking, however. Marik paused, though, and tilted his head.

"I figgered we'd share it," Marik explained, holding the coke can out to Akefia. Smiling, the larger boy took the coke, and took a swig, wondering vaguely about that 'anime' shit Marik was into. Weren't they always babbling about 'indirect kisses' and whatnot? Frowning, Akefia downed another gulp, and decided he couldn't give two shits if Marik had put his ass on here instead of his lips. Coke was coke.

"Thanks, then," Akefia muttered, crunching the aluminum between his fingers, before chucking it backwards, making a resounding noise against the back window, before crunching down atop the case of coke back there.

"GOOOALLLL!" Marik cried, launching his hands up in the air, and swinging his hips to where he slid back and forth across the seat, making squealing noises and doing random cheer impressions.

"What in the fuck is wrong with you?" Akefia laughed, watching as Marik finally settled down, just to plop on his back and making _vroom_ noises as he scooted about, peddling his way up to Akefia's lap, and plopping his head down atop it, smiling up through the frame made by the grey haired man's arms.

"I've never been to a Honky Tonk!" Marik cried. "Never been anywhere, really," the blonde pouted, twisting his head slightly, giving a painful reminder of just where his head was. Repressing the noise that he wished to make, Akefia peered down at Marik.

"You're twenty one, though!" Akefia exclaimed. "So cheer up! Remember, that's why we're doing this whole thing!" Marik gave a small smile, and nodded, standing up slightly and leaning his head against Akefia's chest, peering over the steering wheel at their destination. Akefia's face felt heated once more, and he stared at Marik, body poised over his thighs.

Today wasn't Marik's twenty first birthday. Not even close. It was actually several months after the date, but this was the closest they could get to it. It had been to cold for anything they'd wanted to do, after all, and the Honky Tonk had been closed due to refurbishing anyways.

"Mm," Marik hummed happily. "Well, thank-you for taking me!" Marik shouted, and ducked back out from beneath Akefia, and slid over to the window, pressing his face into the glass, and staring out at the passing scenery.

"No problem, Marik" Akefia assured. "The pleasure's certainly all mine."

-(-o-)-

Akefia pulled up and parked his car, switching the car off, and retracting his keys, stuffing them into his Wranglers jeans. Hopping out of the car, he waited for Marik to join him, the blonde boy grinning confidently as he swaggered up to Akefia, boots clacking against the pavement as he regarded the big wooden cabin with interest.

"This one's set up like a house," Akefia explained, looking at Marik's confused expression. "It's run by some Duke Devlin fellow," he continued. "Now stay close to me, cuz the crowd that gets round here is-"

Akefia paused, and realized that Marik had just rushed off towards the bar, kicking up gravel and mulch as he pranced along, laughing all the way. "YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Akefia shouted, rushing after his friend.

By the time he reached the front, Marik had already flashed his ID, and was entering the heated, music pounding room, the sound of Trace Adkin's voice pouring out into the night air, along with a wave of body heat that sucker punched Akefia as he slipped his ID out, gaining him access into the Honky Tonk.

"Marik?" Akefia cried over the pulsing music. Lights flashed about, and plenty of leather and jeans rubbed uncomfortably against Akefia as he pushed his way through the crowd. He could see several bigger men giving him distasteful looks, the rebel flags tied about their necks, and spread across their chests hints enough at what had them irked.

Ignoring them, Akefia pushed through the crowd, and finally spotted Marik. The boy was leaning against a pillar, humming happily to the song as another man attempted to engage him in conversation. Akefia felt anger well up inside of him, but felt slightly happy as Marik declined the man's offer.

The wrath was back once more, however, as the man persisted, clearly not happy with being denied this chance to talk to such a young person, with such a lovely body. When the man grabbed Marik, that was the final straw, Akefia launched forward, fists rearing back.

He didn't have to attack anybody, however, and watched as Marik's fist flew up high, crunching into the other man's face, and causing the crack of bone beneath knuckles. Akefia watched, wide-eyed, as the man bent double, blood pouring from his nose. He was still clutching onto Marik's wrist, however, but that didn't last long. With one more punch, Marik's hand delivered a hefty blow to the man's hand, probably breaking a few fingers.

And, as a final act of spite, Marik's booted foot shot high up, slamming into the man's groin, and sending the disgusting elder person crumbling to the floor, screaming and crying in pain. Marik's face turned slightly sheepish at all the looks watching him, and Akefia let out a cry of alarm as the bartender called for the bouncer.

Rushing forward, Akefia grabbed the confused Marik, and dragged the blonde boy behind him, ignoring the shouts for them to halt. Marik was still confused as hell, and was constantly whipping his head over his shoulder, getting smacked by his hair. Akefia paid him no heed, however, and continued to lead the boy from the Honky Tonk.

They finally erupted into the cool night air, and rushed to the truck. Akefia let out an annoyed his as, when he and Marik slid into the seats together, his tailgate was peppered again. Groaning with annoyance, he slammed his keys into the ignition yet again, and ignored Marik's grunts, and revved the engine, squealing tires as he hopped the curb.

Marik let out a pained noise as his teeth snapped together, and soon he was sprawled out in Akefia's lap, clutching onto the larger man as they rolled over the hills, popping into a dip before finally resurfacing like a dolphin breaking for air.

With another grunt, and some effort, Akefia finally coaxed his car out all the way, and he rolled down the street at an illegal speed, ignoring the freaking out Marik in his lap, and thanking Jesus Christ above that the cops didn't come out this way.

Marik finally rose up from his seat, and peered backwards.

"Hot damn!" he exclaimed, giggling like a child. "Kefi, we just can't stay outta trouble, can we?" he laughed, rubbing the back of his head.

"Nah," Akefia agreed, shaking his head and giving the faintest of smiles. Sure, the night had gone like he'd planned. He hadn't gotten Marik to go eat with him. He hadn't gotten Marik to enjoy his birthday at the Honky Tonk. And he certainly hadn't gotten lucky, and confessed.

But, seeing Marik next to him, smiling and laughing, Akefia decided that this was just fine.

-(-o-)-

**Based loosely off of the song 'What Was I Thinking', by Dierks Bentley (Sp?). Either way, it's a very good song and all that jazz.**

**Please review~**


	32. Chapter 32: Babysitter

**NO PAIRINGS.**

**Rated M for Gore, and this consists of (hikari) Marik and Yami Bakura.**

**This involves a sadistic, twisted Marik. Don't like, don't read.**

-(-o-)-

Bakura gritted his teeth, and stared irritably at the large, oaken door that arose before him. Certainly, it was taller then him, seeing as he was naturally quite short as far as men go, and on top of that, his ratty old sneakers had the soles so worn down one would almost believe that they didn't exist, and that Bakura's sock was best friends with the concrete.

It wasn't as such, of course, but people often gave him reproachful, or sympathetic looks that were, in his honest opinion, fucking pathetic. He didn't have time to worry about their insignificant little worries. They were completely misplaced, and were based off of assumptions. Should they fall and break their necks from jumping to conclusions, Bakura wouldn't have stopped them. He would merely point and laugh as their idiocy sent them plummeting to their lovely, grisly deaths.

As it was, he couldn't really be laughing at anybody with his mouth twisted in such an unfortunate way. For, you see, Bakura, the prideful, cruel man, was left lifting his pallid hand to the doors polished outside, and he was currently rapping his knuckles across it, the back of his hand searing from the amount of force used.

A face, much similar to his, flashed into his memory, and he remembered how it had looked sickened, and frail. How he wanted to crush that slender little neck when Ryou, the small boy that he called his cousin, had stared up at him with pitifully wide eyes, and had requested that Bakura take over his job.

The darker of the two had, of course, declined. Why should he do his cousin's work? However, a quick knock about with the switch, and Bakura had been off and treading, muttering curse words of every caliber as he was shoved from the home, to go to this stupid place that smelled of stupidity and carelessness.

It smelled of food, bile, shit, and all matters of refuse and decay, with the hint of candy and other sweet, sticky things that made Bakura's nose turn up at the mere thought. And, yes indeed, the smell only increased as the door was slid open, and a small face peered out, staring up at Bakura with lidded, wary eyes.

"Hello, worm," Bakura spat. "I'm here to babysit you."

Dark fingers gripped the past-tree,and moved to slam it shut. Bakura's foot, however, lodged itself in between the crack, and nestled itself quite happily in the nook, if not slightly painful. With a twitch of his eyes, Bakura brushed his bangs back, and glared down at the child who was now staring moodily at Bakura, revealing lavender eyes that glistening angrily behind long blonde bangs.

"You're not Ryou," the little boy commented, hands going to his slender hips as he shoved his nose into the air. While he couldn't physically look down upon Bakura, it certainly felt that, to the spirit, this was what the little boy was doing. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Bakura pushed into the house, successfully booting the kid from his pathway as he entered.

The kid made an indignant noise, and scrabbled backwards, britches snagging on a few nails that stuck up from the hardwood as he did so. Bakura paid him no heed, though, and partook in examining his surroundings.

The house was pretty simplistic. Average and middle class, with nothing at all remotely spectacular about aside from a few Egyptian artifacts. Bakura debated on the thought of stealing them or not, but brushed the thought aside. What good would it do? The people would know, anywho, and it would do him no good to get caught.

Huffing irritably, he finally faced the kid, who was rubbing angrily at his nose, wiping the snot from his nostrils as he regarded Bakura coldly.

"Father's upstairs," the kid stated snootily, moving back into the living room, and not pausing until he reached the couch. Bakura mocked him, before following behind, hands shoved deep within the depths of his pockets as he strolled, thin legs moving and disgusting sneakers clumping. He paid no attention to the carpet that he was no doubt tracking mud upon, and instead focused on the smell of candy, permeating from the small bowl set atop the table.

In the lamplight, it winked playfully at Bakura, crystal surface shining brilliantly as it illuminated the packets within, drawing a persons eye to their delectable bodies, just to waft their scent across ones nostrils, stirring a stomach into action, and causing a bout of growling that would rival that of the earthquakes destroying a country.

"If you touch the candy, father will switch you," the blonde boy observed, grasping the remote in his hand as he moodily rifled through the channels, brow knitted together as he didn't even spare Bakura the most simplest of glances.

"Listen here you little-"

"You must be Bakura," a loud voice interrupted, and the pale man twirled about, huffing irritably as he saw what looked like a much older version of the blonde kid just taking up space behind him. "Marik is pretty self-sustaining. Ryou just usually plays board games with him, and the like. All we need you to do is cook for him, and keep him entertained." With that, the man brushed past Bakura, and moved to his son. "You will behave?"

"Yes," Marik replied despondently, breaking his attention focused upon the television for a moment, before returning it once more, vapid expression back in place. His father merely grunted, and strode away, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he and his wife exited the house.

"What do you want to do then?" Bakura snapped, as soon as the door slammed shut. "Because I sure as hell don't want to take care of your dumbass. And I refuse to play games with some snot dribbling bitch, too."

Marik twitched his arm in the slightest, a small spasm of the muscles that could've gone easily unnoticed, had Bakura not been attempting to find something to shoot venom at with his eyes. Watching it, he saw the boy relax once more, before twisting in his seat, cold eyes regarding Bakura.

"I'm hungry," the small, childish voice crowed aloud, slender arms working across their chest.

"Why should I cook for you?" Bakura sneered, lips curling back to bare ice like fangs at the boy. His crimson eyes narrowed in the slightest, and he twisted the corners of his mouth up into the barest of smirks.

"You should because I said you should," Marik spat. "You need no more reasoning. You've ruined the plans that I had for Ryou today, so you'll just have to play in his stead." With that, the child arose from his seat, and stormed over to Bakura. The pale man prepared himself for any attack the spindly child could throw his way, but Marik merely breezed past, nose hoisted high up as he made his way haughtily into the kitchen.

Pausing, Bakura followed, wondering just what 'games' there were in store for him. He didn't much fancy playing with the child, but he figured he might not ending up having a choice... Then again, there was always the possibility of finding some rope or extension cords and wrapping the boy up, tossing him into a closet, and setting down a bowl filled with food and water as Bakura lay leisurely about the big house all day.

He wouldn't do it, of course. He could apprehend the boy, but no doubt he would talk, and punch, scream, and do all manner of God awful things that I truly have no interest in. With that thought put to rest, he quickly came up behind Marik, and entered the orderly white kitchen.

"I want macaroni and cheese," Marik stated matter of factly, drumming his stubby fingers across the marble counter top as he glared critically at Bakura, pointing at the pots as he scurried away once more.

Bakura didn't even bother to ask, and instead grabbed the Mac and Cheese, ripping open the box with his sharpened nails, and tearing at the package with his sharp canines, not even bothering to do it properly. What was it to him if noodles scattered everywhere, or if cheese flew up in a mushroom cloud.

Well, he wouldn't have cared, if not for the fact that power pushed up his nose, tickling the hairs and causing a loud reaction that was the equation of dynamite in his brain as he lurched forward, forehead smacking the stove as he sneezed, spewing cheese and mucus from his pointed, small nose.

"Ugh," he snarled angrily, grabbing a second package and handling this one properly. He heard Marik, behind him, snickering with glee. Great. The brat had returned. Ignoring the irksome boy behind him, he set the noodles to boil, and tossed the cheese in.

"You don't even know how to make Macaroni," Marik stated scornfully, eying with reproach as Bakura dumped cheese into the water.

"Shut the fuck up," Bakura growled. "You'll eat it if I have to shove it down your fucking throat." Turning about, he glared critically at Marik, and saw that the boy had set up a simple game of LIFE.

Plopping down at the kitchen table, Bakura examined the board game carefully, before arching his eyebrow, studying Marik. The boy didn't say anything, and merely reached out, grasping the spinner, and giving it a whirl. His fingers then moved to the red care, already occupied by a blue pawn, and slid it forward, choosing the more direct route of getting a career.

Glaring irritably, Bakura offered up the jobs and salaries to the kid, finally deciding that, well, why the fuck not? He was here, and bored. He might as well at least have some fun. He himself was now in possession of the blue car, and was currently ahead of Marik, fingers drumming along his jaw line.

"Did you notice you had no kids?" Marik spoke up suddenly, and his eerie gaze was fixed upon Bakura. Next to him bubbled a dangerous, inedible pot of Macaroni and Cheese. The boy had downright refused to eat it, and Bakura had decided that he was preoccupied by playing LIFE to bother.

"What does that mean?" Bakura spat, staring at Marik. He didn't understand the younger boy's train of thought. He randomly spouted off things like that. 'Oh, Bakura, you live in a shack, quite appropriate isn't it?' or 'You only got a wife because it's required, right?'. Bakura didn't understand the motive, but he knew it gave him an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, his instincts screeching that something was off about the kid.

"Ryou messed up the macaroni and cheese too," Marik piped up, eying the little pot next to him with clear distaste, and displeasure. "Did you know I don't like when people mess things up? It annoys me. I don't like it." Sighing, the blonde pushed his bangs back, and regarded the ruined mess. "I really don't like it when people make mistakes at my expense."

Bakura grimaced, and stood up, ready to end this game. "Look whatever, I don't give a shit. You didn't eat it anyways so what does it-"

"I DON'T LIKE MISTAKES!" Marik screeched, his voice breaking and octave and caused Bakura to clap his hands over his ears, face wrinkling with displeasure as he hissed at Marik. The boy, however, had his chest heaving. "Mistakes are bad. MISTAKES ARE BAD."

Bakura took a step back, and started edging towards the cabinets, hand twitching, preparing to grab a knife.

"I read a book once though," Marik continued, voice quieting for a moment. Bakura, however, did not relax, and merely held his place. His crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, and he regarded the boy with clear mistrust.

"The book," Marik continued on, "said that killing for simple reasons was wrong however." Pausing, Marik began scooping up several pieces of the game, and placed them back into their box, humming as he did so. "It said that people live to grow up and populate the Earth. But, Bakura," Marik stopped here, and picked up a car, pressing his finger to the sharper edge of it, as he stared pointedly at his baby sitter. "Bakura, you want no children, and you want no wife. So, I think," here Marik twirled his wrist a bit, and grinned, "I think I'm completely justified."

Bakura's mouth opened in question, but in a flash Marik had moved forward. He felt a small amount of pressure on his foot as Marik used it to propel himself upwards. Bakura cursed his short height, but that was the last coherent thing to leave his mouth as a sharp card pierced his eyelid, and carried through into his eye.

Screaming, he reeled back, and Marik released the card. The paper stayed stuck, stiff, in Bakura eyeball, and he struggled to retrieve it, mouth agape in one long, torturous screech of pain.

"I wanted to get Ryou first," Marik grumbled, seemingly undisturbed by the pain Bakura was in. In fact, he was moving closer once more, grasping one of Bakura's tufts of hair to hold the older boy in place as his fingers roamed down once more, gripping the card in his hands once again. "But you'll just have to do for now." With that, Marik gave a vicious jerk, and there was a sickening pop.

Before Bakura could scream again, Marik had dropped the card, and with it, Bakura's still attached eyeball. It smacked against Bakura's cheek with a wet sound, and squelched its liquid out, dribbling down the man's jawbone, and slithering down his neck, collecting at the collar bone in a chilling way.

Marik's fist shoved its way into Bakura's mouth, blocking out what would no doubt be blood curdling screams. "I'm sure I won't be punished, though, when father sees you," Marik stated, not even bothering to register that Bakura was to far lost in the haze of pain to even notice his words. "I'm sure he won't. He'll understand. I was hungry, and you messed up my dinner."

As he spoke, Marik reached round, and grabbed a kitchen knife, and pulled it over to his chest level, where he studied Bakura. "I'm sure daddy will like the dinner I make more, anywho."

Bending down, Marik positioned the knife over Bakura's chest, and pressed the blade in, ignoring the tears now coursing down Bakura's gaunt cheeks. Instead, he focused on drilling the blade forward, thrusting it in, and wedging it into the skin, and twirling it about Bakura's innards, locating the one thing he was looking for. Smirking, Marik delivered the killing blow, before withdrawing the knife once more.

Giggling, he watched Bakura collapse, before swiping the knife off on his shirt.

"To bad Ryou couldn't come too," Marik said sadly. "Father could've had desert."

-(-o-)-

Marik lifted the cheese grater, dragging it across the severed arm clasped tightly in his hand, humming happily as he positioned it over the boiling pot. Resting within it was Bakura's heart. It had long since quit pumping, but it had, at the time of its removal, been gushing with the beautiful crimson liquid that now served as its bathing water.

"This will be so yummy, right?" Marik questioned to no one in particular, eyes out of focus as he spoke to someone who could've easily not been there, but was, perhaps, through the distant eyes of the blonde boy, who was giggling.

Picking up an eye, he popped it between his fingers, laughing all the while as some of the liquid landing within his open mouth. Swirling his tongue about it happily, he made a pleasured noise, and reached down again. He had, earlier, extracted several bones from the ribs, and he now held one up, cracking it and letting the marrow run, dribbling into the pot.

"Oh, how yummy this will be," Marik cried. "Thank-you friend!" he stated excitedly. "I knew I had it in me as well." Here, Marik frowned, and tilted his head. He hoisted up the decapitated head that had once belong to Bakura. He cracked open the jaw just a bit wider, and grabbed a pair of pliers, setting them to the teeth as he stared about.

Clamping them about the bone, he began ripping them from the gums, ignoring the spray of blood and strings of skin that followed each piece. Instead, he cocked his head, and listened intently to something that wasn't there to the outside world. To the quiet voice within the curl of his ear, and within the coils of his brain.

"Father and mother would make good deserts?" he questioned calmly, plucking the extracted teeth up,and holding them atop the boiling meal. His fingers were sticky with blood, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he uncurled the digits, and let them fall, plopping slowly into the pot of blood, and he watched them sink to the bottom.

"You think so?" he asked, and stared around, fidgeting slightly. "You're right," Marik said suddenly, agreeing with the voice.

"They can't clean up right. They'd just make things messy."

-(-o-)-

**This quite obviously has no meaning or any such thing.**

Eh.


	33. Chapter 33: Sexy Teacher

**Rated T  
><strong>

**Monday:**

"I want to fuck you."

Akefia dropped his sheet music, and sent it spilling all across the floor, littering the ground about black, stylish boots. An amused snort came from up above, before Akefia's slate grey eyes rose to regard lavender orbs that peered back at him, clear by the look in them that this was serious business. Or, as most of his students would phrase it on their Twitters and Facebooks of various sorts: 'totz srz bznz'

"Marik," Akefia grumbled, knowing full and well that nasally, annoying voice that belonged to his most persistent and 'special' student. The blonde, dazzling Egyptian that had his arms crossed over his chest, showing off the glinting gold that adorned his forearms, and a satisfied look in his gaze as she shuffled his feet, knocking sheet music out of his way, and stepping closer to Akefia, sidling up to his music teacher with a pout full in effect.

"I want fuck you. Or you could fuck me, if it would please you." Marik reiterated, eye lashes lowering as he stared up at Akefia, grin full in effect as he smirked. Marik looked damned good, and he knew it, much to Akefia's disadvantage.

Lifting up a hand, Akefia placed his palm against his pupil's forehead, and pushed backwards, removing Marik from his body, and placing the blonde at a more comfortable distance. "And I've told you time and time again, no, it's illegal," Akefia stated calmly, eyebrow twitching to betray the former emotion.

Letting out an irritated groan, Marik dropped back, hands moving to his hips. "We've been dating for _two years_!" Marik exclaimed. "When are you gonna get over yourself and just have a little fun!" Marik's hands lifted up, and he grasped Akefia's tie, jerking lightly at it as he played his tongue against his lips.

"Marik, behave!" Akefia barked, smacking the blonde's hand away.

"Abusing a student!" Marik shrieked, before grinning. He dropped his hands to his knees, and shoved his ass up higher, letting out a moan. "C'mon, big boy, smack me with a ruler! I bet I got an F!"

"You're impossible!" Akefia barked, ignoring Marik, scooping down to pick up his sheets of music, and stacking them together, not even bothering to rearrange them alphabetically like they had been before. "Now I have to spend more time fixing this."

"Oh hush, not like you have a wife or children," Marik retorted. "And you don't let _me_ visit your house!"

"If I let you visit my house," Akefia interrupted, "then I'd wake up, drugged, with you bouncing up and down on my cock." With that said, the gray haired man pushed past Marik, and strode towards his satchel, grabbing it and placing all the music inside. "I'm going home now, all right?"

Marik frowned, and crossed his arms, and headed towards the exit.

"You just wait, Akefia Touzouku," Marik said eerily, hand gripping the door frame as he turned about to stare at his teacher. "I'll get you in my bed!"

**Tuesday:**

Akefia enetered the classroom, and saw his first period sitting all about in a full circle, faces dull from sleep, as some wiped the crust from their eyes. Jaw cracking yawns started like the wave of a football game, spreading all out and enveloping each student, one at a time.

Pushing his bangs back, he grimaced as he realized just who would be in this class. Marik was a senior, yes, but he was taking Driver's Ed. On top of that, he was in his final year, and therefore had a slot open in his schedule to serve as a teacher's aid, and, of course, he'd chosen his boyfriend.

Sighing, Akefia realized that today, Marik didn't drive, and therefore Akefia had a double dose of the boy, along with the actual music class (seventh period) that Marik had. This was getting ridiculous.

"Keeeefi!" Marik sang, tone-deaf voice carrying over top the heads of his students. Akefia shot the blonde a glare, and several kids blinked stupidly, twisting about to stare at Marik, confusion on their faces. Needless to say, Marik and Akefia's relationship wasn't exactly... Broadcasted.

"Ishtar," Akefia spat, keeping his voice harsh. "Keep your obnoxious voice down while I teach my class!"

"Come over here and make me," Marik returned, tongue playing with his teeth as he faced Akefia. Looking over, Akefia could see now that Marik was over by the keyboards, thumbs playing across the silent keys.

Akefia stared, before dropping his things and storming over to Marik. "Class!" He shouted over his shoulder. "Begin composing your own sheet of music. I want each one to be different. Experiment with keys and measures if you so please, and lyrics are optional. Go!"

With that, the students were off. Akefia had a reputable short temper, and he certainly didn't hesitate. If one was acting up, then a quick smack to the back of the head with a flute, always accidental, and you were quickly escorted from the classroom, and to the office.

"What are you doing you infernal idiot?" Akefia hissed, stalking up next to Marik, the only student that had ever gotten away with anything. It had all started with a detention, in which Marik had proposed a game. If Marik won, then Akefia would release him. Well, the child had pulled out Duel Monsters, and the sneaky bastard had had a God card in his deck.

With that much said, Akefia struggled, but eventually lost, and Marik was allowed to leave. The funny thing? They'd exchanged witty banter, talking back and forth, basically having a good time through their struggle. And, sure enough, Marik decided to stay in detention, and actually acted up on purpose so as to gain access to the detention.

Apparently Akefia was the first person, it turned out, to ever give Marik the time of day. A father who ignored him, a dead mother, and a sister that was moving out and was off doing her own things, Marik had been all alone. It'd been kinda cute, and more so brotherly at first, with Akefia being the gruff elder sibling, and father figure that Marik hadn't had.

Then, the school dance had rolled around. Marik had been Sophomore, and hadn't been able to find a date to the dance. He'd been complaining about it, acting like it was cool and he didn't care, but Akefia had seen right through it. With a mere roll of his eyes and a flick of his wrist, he'd turned on some nice, classical music, and had enveloped Marik in his arms, determined to get the boy to break down and admit his pain.

However, with Marik there, in his arms, slightly flushed and in denial, Akefia had merely been able to stare, hands on slender hips as he moved Marik about, teaching the boy to dance. Marik had eventually opened up, but in a much different way then Akefia had initially thought.

The opening of his lips as the boy rocketed onto tip toes to plant a heavy kiss on Akefia.

That had been the simple start of their relationship.

This past year, though, Marik had become increasingly sexual, more often then not stealing kisses, squeezes, and doing things that made Akefia's britches a bit to tight. Did he want sex with the boy? Of course! Would he? No. It was illegal, for at least this next year, and he would treat it as thus.

"I," Marik stated simply, leaning against the keyboard, lifting his fingers up to curl about Akefia's shirt, fingering the tie, "want you to fuck me. Right here. Let's let the children watch. Give 'em a good show." With that, Marik leaned in, and moved to press his lips to Akefia's, but the older man pushed Marik back.

"Would you quit?" Akefia hissed, smacking Marik's hand away, and ignoring the blonde's hurt look. "We're in a classroom, and you are my teacher's aid. Act as such. Gods, I wish you could drive everyday! This is stupid!"

"I'm your teacher's aid," Marik purred, clearly undeterred as he twirled around, pressing his body in close to Akefia's once more. "Why don't you give me your orders?"

"Do your job," Akefia retorted gruffly, spinning away. "I've got work to do."

**Wednesday:**

"Is that a clarinet in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Akefia groaned, and turned about, seeing that, indeed, Marik was positioned behind him, grin in place. Today, the blonde was sporting a scarlet shirt, with a lavender undershirt, rolled up to reveal his dark forearms, and also showing off the golden watches and bangles that dangled about his wrist.

"Neither," Akefia answered with a sneer, arms crossing across his crisp white shirt as he glared down at Marik. "It's a piccolo." With that, the grey haired man slid a hand into his pants, and retracted the instrument that was there. Akefia had kept it in there (mouth piece up) as a way of it not taking up his hand space, which was currently occupied by a marker.

Marik took that moment to reach forward, snatching up the piccolo, and placing it to his lips. His pink tongue slid its way between lips, stroking the tip of the piccolo as he moaned aloud, lips forming an 'O' as he stared at Akefia.

"Marik," Akefia growled in warning. While he did enjoy seeing the boy licking his... Instrument in such away, this was not a good thing to be happening. "Give me back my piccolo."

"But I like the taste of your instrument," Marik retorted, fingers stroking the keys as he twirled the pads of his fingers about the holes.

"Marik," Akefia snarled, snatching the piccolo from his boyfriend's fingers. "Leave my instrument alone."

"Aw," Marik pouted, turning away. "I just wanted to have some fun," the blonde said mournfully. "I could understand if you're mad about the piccolo-I get the fact that you'd want to have a bigger thing to stand for your penis, like a trumpet, but you're just being grumpy."

"I want you to quit with all this sexual nonsense!" Akefia snapped. "Our relationship is fine without it! Why can't you just be happy with it as thus? Quit being an immature brat." Slamming the piccolo down, he felt his anger reaching a boiling point as he towered over Marik. He really was quite tired of all this teasing!

"I'm not being immature!" Marik cried, fists balling up at his sides.

"This is exactly why dating a student was a bad idea from the start," Akefia hissed, turning away from Marik, and ignoring the outraged noise that escaped the blonde's throat. "You're just a horny idiot that's thinking with your cock." Lifting up a large hand, Akefia pointed towards the classroom door. "And now I would appreciate if you would leave."

"FUCK. YOU!" Marik screeched, storming from the classroom, and slamming the door after him, mustering a lot of rage behind it. Akefia watched as his awards plastered across the wall rattled with their glass frames.

Sighing, Akefia gripped his forehead, and rubbed at his temples.

It had been rash and stupid, but he supposed this was something that Marik needed to hear.

**Thursday:**

Akefia passed through his uneventful day. Today, Marik was actually driving, and so was absent first period, ending in a monotone start to the day, free of teasing advances, and other such things. It was truly odd. Akefia had thought he wanted the solitude and silence, but he now found himself waiting eagerly for that time of the day that Marik would enter his classroom, ready for apologies and what not.

Sighing, Akefia walked about in a stupor, until seventh period finally hit. The band poured in, and took up their position behind their stands, Marik entering with a group of kids, but oddly silent. A golden trumpet was soon clasped between his nimble fingers as he pressed the brass instrument to his lips, blowing out notes experimentally.

"Marik!" Akefia whispered, but the blonde ignored him, giving Akefia a critical glare, before letting out a long, bellowing bray from the horn of his instrument. Huffing in irritation, Akefia began the lesson, leading them through their songs as, all the while, he stayed focused upon Marik.

When the final bell rang shrill and loud, Akefia rushed to Marik, and placed a foot on Marik's trumpet case, anchoring the younger boy in place. Marik grunted, and tugged at the handle, attempting to dislodge it.

"Let me go!" Marik growled, glaring up at Akefia.

"No," the teacher said simply. "We're going to talk this out like adults."

"I'm just a kid though," Marik replied snarkily, lips pulling back irritably as he regarded his (ex?) boyfriend.

"Why the hell're you pushing sex on me?" Akefia demanded, moving to make Marik sit. The blonde jerked out of his teacher's grasp, however, and glared up at Akefia.

"You know that guy Isis has been dating?" Marik said simply, expression becoming glazed. Akefia nodded to show that yes, indeed, he remembered. "Well, he left. Because they weren't having sex. And that new girlfriend that made my dad real happy? She said the sex wasn't good, and then she ditched us."

Akefia could already see where this was going, rubbing at the right side of his face as he stared down at the teenager. "Gods," the older man groaned, watching Marik's lips wiggle in a depressed line as he stared down at the ground.

"I just wanted us to have sex," Marik mumbled, "so I could see if we'd... Y'know, last! I want us to last! I don't want you to leave me because we're not having sex!" Marik's hands wagged about his head as he stomped his foot, hair frantic about his face.

"Marik!" Akefia interjected. "If I was only interested in sex, I would've left you by now, not keep pushing it back!" Marik paused, before bobbing his head slowly, rubbing at the back of his head.

"All right, so I over-reacted. Oh fucking well. I still just... Akefia, I need to go home right now. I can't deal with you at the moment." With that, Marik grabbed his trumpet case, and successfully exited the classroom, leaving Akefia sitting there.

**Thursday; 11:00 PM**

While Akefia couldn't befriend Marik on Facebook, the blonde kept his profile open on purpose so that the teacher could easily browse through it. This day, however, there was no knew posts, nothing that would tell the teacher of his pupil's thoughts on this day.

Sighing, he stared forlornly at the chat. While Akefia wasn't really big on this whole Facebook thing, he had to admit, the chat feature was handy. He now regretted not downloading that Skype thing that Marik had been bugging him about.

Groaning, Akefia logged off, and shut his computer down, and headed to bed.

**Friday**:

Akefia strode into first period, certainly not hopeful of the day's events that would be spanning out. Shrugging off his jacket and backpack, he flicked on the lights, and yelped in surprise.

There, in the middle of the classroom, was Marik Ishtar, a music stand placed before him. One leg was curled about the cold metal base of it, as he stared at Akefia, gaze lidded as his mouth parted, tongue barely poking out.

Akefia dropped the rest of his things, and watched as Marik's hips rode the rod of the stand, a small moan bursting from his lips as he slid lower, dropping to his bum and spreading his legs, pressing a bulge against the stand.

"Hey, Kefi," Marik purred, motioning for his boyfriend to join him. Biting his lip, and going against his better judgement, the teacher complied, and strode across the classroom, finally scrabbling to all fours as he neared Marik.

Crawling up to the boy, he felt himself quite enjoying the sight of the gorgeous Egyptian this way. Marik made a small, contented humming noise as he slid forward, pressing himself against Akefia, and making the larger man stand straight on his knees as he pressed their bodies together, tongue rubbing and lips meshing together while Marik rubbed the ever present bulge in his pants against Akefia.

"The students are gonna be here soon," Akefia panted, hands grasping Marik's hips as he smashed he and the smaller boy together again.

"That's all right," Marik replied, pulling back slightly to give Akefia a sly grin. "Because I decided," the blonde snuck a hand into his pants, grasping something. Akefia let out a noise of want, and crooned as Marik began rubbing softly within his britches. "I've decided," the blonde started again, capturing Akefia's interest once more, "that we'll wait."

With that, Marik pulled a wadded up t-shirt from within his pants, causing the mysterious 'boner' to disappear instantly. Whooping with laughter, Marik feel back, and watched Akefia flounder.

"GOD DAMMIT ISHTAR I'M FAILING YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!"


	34. Chapter 34: I'll Fuck You

**I'll Fuck You**

**Pairing: Bronzeshipping**

**Rated: NC-17**

**Warnings: S&M, gore, vore, guro, necrophilia**

Marik sucked in a large breath, lips pursed about his tongue as he nudged his teeth, the slightest of moans bursting forth as he felt a hand slide up his back, the pads of it pressing sharply against the contours of his back, delivering feathery touches that sent delicious waves of pleasure racing up Marik's spine.

"Give me more," he commanded, eyes closed tightly. He refused to ever whimper, or beg. Marik took, and he got what he wanted, and nothing would ever change that, no matter who was delivering and or receiving.

"You really want more? Oh, you little slut," Mariku snarled into his hikari's ear, one hand reaching down to stroke at Marik's cock, teasing the flesh and working his way up it, wrist nuzzling the underside as he reached a hand out, grasping many of the threads that were spread all around them. Giving the bundle a sharp tug, Mariku watched, fascinated, as the strings binding Marik's body slid deep into skin, pearls of blood erupting between separated flesh, and muscles contracted.

Marik let out another, deep throated groan as his head dipped back, strings lightly cutting across his throat, but never at the jugular. No, no, it was much more fun to play and enjoy, and, indeed, Mariku was enjoying.

"More!" Marik shouted, voice coming out garbled and strangled as it pushed its way from his throat, slapping the air and pushing Mariku into reacting as they yami's fingers curled tightly around the bundle once more, and jerked on it, much harsher then before. He felt his own fingers being sliced through to the bone as Marik was cut as well, both shrieking from ecstasy and the blood loss.

"Come over here and kiss me," Marik panted, licking his lips and jerking his hips so the strings cut deeper, the red-dyed pieces of nylon riding along his skin, bringing forth more noises from his mouth as Mariku slid to the ground next to Marik, pressing his lips harshly to his hikari's.

Marik's tongue immediately launched into Mariku's mouth, not giving the yami a moment to dominate or think as he pressed forward, feeling the strings rub against his nipples. Snapping his teeth together, he ripped at Mariku's lips, feeling the blood that might as well have been his own pouring into his mouth. Mariku, before him, merely spread his legs, naked thighs pressing into the blood slicked floor, breath ragged as he lowered his hand down.

"Rub it in my blood first!" the hikari ordered, amethyst eyes narrowing heatedly as he glared down at the yami. Mariku snarled, ready to argue, but thought better of it. Instead, he lifted a hand up, palm pressing into the multitude of wounds spattering Marik' body. He started at the shoulders, before dragging his fingers down, leaving a gory trail behind him as he reached Marik's midriff, pausing to rub softly (And purposefully) against Marik's erection.

"Gods you damned tease," Marik hissed, glaring pointedly at the spiky haired man now pleasuring himself, psychotic face twisting from that of puzzlement to pure delight as his generous tongue lolled out, slapping at his chin as he gave his hikari a sultry look, tongue flickering about in a dangerous way.

"You order me around to much," Mariku spat, voice mildly strangled, "you never let me fuck you. All I get to do is watch you." The yami tilted his head back, baring his throat to Marik as he moaned, hips jerking faster, slipping in the blood as he gyrated.

Marik glared uncertainly at the yami, and pulled back, for once ignoring the blissful, slicing feeling of the strings snapped taught about his body. The skin about his eyes scrunched up as the lids fluttered downwards, observing the yami's next move, and watched as Mariku came, crying no one's name.

"So now," Mariku panted, gaze lowering back down to stare steadily at his hikari, "I'm going to make you let me." With that, the yami rose up, and moved about, positioning himself behind Marik. The boy let out a sharp cry, and tried to squirm away, only managing to lodge himself deeper with the strings.

Marik had made a mistake.

Marik had trusted his yami.

Mariku made no move to fuck Marik yet, however, and merely lifted a hand up, grasping the bundle of strings, and sifting through the multicolored tips, searching for the one he wanted.

"But first," the yami purred, "I will give you the pleasure of a life time."

Marik's hazy gaze slid over, resting on his yami's muscular arms, and he watched as he flexed, pulling downwards on a certain string. Marik jerked slightly as he felt a piece that resided around his groin tighten sharply, slicing into his cock and, despite himself, sending waves of pleasure through him.

Falling back to his elbows, he ignored the various other slices that he was awarded, and he felt his flesh smacking into the pool of his own blood, though he was miraculously still conscious and alive. Alive enough, certainly, to feel the wondrous feeling of that string.

Another tug by Mariku and a string sliced itself in deeper, massaging the head of Marik's penis in such a lovely way as more moans wrenched themselves free from parted lips. "GODS YES" was the only coherent syllables that were allowed to leave Marik's mouth at that moment, and Mariku merely watched it all with a warped grin.

"Do you like that?" Mariku whispered softly, fiddling the string between the pads of his fingers, teeth glistening with saliva and blood as he watched his hikari writhing, cutting his skin deeper. Marik merely moaned in response, and Mariku gave the string a soft, contemplative tug.

"Then I think I'll give you more."

With a vicious snarl, Mariku jerked harshly on the string, pulling it down ever lower and causing Marik to scream -though it wasn't ecstasy of any kind. With a shocked screech, yami and hikari watched as Marik's cock separated itself from the blood splattered boy's body, and slapped roughly to the ground.

Marik's jaw dropped, and his eyes stared straight forward, body convulsing and slipping the strings further in. Mariku, however, was done with them, and quickly strode forward, pushing Marik onto his back, and ignoring the dead boy's twitching limbs. He did watch, however, with fascination, as the strings sliced deeper, drawing up wells of blood.

Sneering down at his hikari, Mariku gather up Marik's legs, and punctured the thighs with his sharpened nail, dragging the calves up so they rested, dead weight, on Mariku's shoulders, toes limp and heels rolling outwards.

Positioning himself at Marik's entrance, he grinned eerily down at the slack face, feeling the heat disappearing from Marik's body as he rammed forward, slamming himself into Marik, and watching as the boy's head met resistance against the floor, and the skull rolled back, giving a horrifying crack and twisting the head about.

Mariku didn't stop.

He continued to thrust -hard and fast- watching as the boy's head flopped about on his still neck, smacking again and again against the floor. Mariku could already see blood pooling from the wound, coloring Marik's once golden hair a dingy, rust flake color.

Some of the strings were moving again, and Mariku watched, fascinated, as they wormed their way through skin, breaking and peeling apart the flesh. Panting, thrusting, and all together to excited for his own good, Mariku's hand shot down, grasping at one of the chunks of meet, and slid his fingers beneath the flap. Jerking upwards, he ripped the skin free from its natural place and slung it upwards, showering himself with blood and scraps of flesh.

Grunting, he paused for a moment to discard the flesh, before staring downwards, spotting the fact that the skin had been snagged open enough to reveal the intestines lying within. Giving another shudder, Mariku pushed once more inside Marik, cumming inside the dead boy.

Dipping his head down, he buried his face in the slick cords of the inner organs, teeth opening wide to take in the slick, rubbery outside of them, tongue sliding out to help him. He bit down, swallowing roughly at the organs as he slowly pulled out of his hikari.

"See," Mariku chuckled darkly, lifting up a hand to pet softly at Marik's cheeks, cold, hard flesh sliding beneath his fingers as he dipped down, kissing Marik's neck and slowly winding his way up to the boy's lips, pausing to stroke those with his tongue.

"I told you I'd get to fuck you."

-(-o-)-

**Ajfdjsafjda **

**This is based off of a Skype conversation (and part of it is because Scarlettablackout on Tumblr.)**

**Um... yeah. :L**

**Now to go work on some Psycho fluff, some Thief vore, and Skull-fucking!**


	35. Chapter 35: Halloween Compilation

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN**

**Rock Lobster**

**(Everything below is rated T)**

Marik flopped back on the sand, letting out an irritated grunt as his head collided with a particularly shop rock he hadn't spotted. A dull thunk greeted his ears as he heard a rude snicker from aside him. The blonde didn't even bother to turn and face the pallid man that was no doubt lying next to him, with a towel draped about his body and over his head, instead of beneath his buttocks like a normal person.

"Shove it, you infernal ass," Marik grumbled, rising up to regard the white haired teen to his right. About a mass of shimmering, hazy white hair was clamped down a towel, causing each strand to curl inwards in a delicate dance of swaying, each pressing inwards to scrape cautiously at a slim cheek, caressing the edges of the sharp-boned face. Hard, stony brown eyes peered from behind snowy lashes, outlining each nick of the lids, and giving an all together odd display of beauty, that happened to continue down a bare neck. Taking note of the bobbing Adam's apple, Marik allowed his eyes to wander lower to the expanse of chest, pricked with goosebumps that made a strange ripple across the other teen's torso. Long, slender arms worked their ways up, causing what small muscle resided upon Bakura's body to stand at attention, ribs evident, as he clasped spindly fingers about the fringes of a faded, destroyed blue blanket.

Bakura quirked a matching white eyebrow, and only the small shimmer from the fading sunlight even gave away its presence. Marik watched as it slowly curved upwards, signaling Bakura's purely questioning gaze, though Marik supposed there was a tinge of scorn.

"Why are we even here?" Bakura complained moodily, words finally escaping his cracked and dry lips. Marik watched them move slowly, forming the words through his accented drawl.

"Because," Marik grumbled impatiently, "Isis got invited to this miserable wreck, and, if I do so recall, it was you who demanded we go because they'd have amazing food." The blonde's own brow curled inwards, as he gave a smug smirk, teeth no doubt glistening in the waning light.

"I thought they'd have steak," Bakura retorted, brown eyes shifting quickly away as he clamped lids over top them, hiding the umber orbs, and giving a type of pout, clearly displeased by being called out.

"You can make all the excuses you want," Marik retorted, curling his knees into his chest, and allowing his swimming trunks to show a bit more thigh. He peeked quickly from his peripheral vision, and noted, with glee, that Bakura was certainly looking as well. For the past few weeks, Marik had been hinting and hinting at the pale man that Marik wanted him as more then a friend.

In so far, he had been unsuccessful.

Marik had pattered the idea around of he asking Bakura out, instead of vice versa, but honestly, Marik happened to enjoy the thought of teasing Bakura into submission. To think, if he could break the proud, cocky Bakura into crumbling his resolve and asking the 'annoying brat' (as he so complained) that was Marik Ishtar - Well, then Marik would have a right good victory, and a boyfriend to boot!

"So, what shall we do?" Marik queried. "We've been sitting here because of your stupid skin," the blonde elaborated, "for about an hour. The sun is going down, though, so we could always go swimming without you turning into a lobster." At the teasing, Bakura bristled, and it seemed as if his already frantic hair reacted to that adjective, giving it the perfect resemblance of the arched spine of a fussy cat.

"Dammit, Ishtar," Bakura rasped, eyes narrowing as he regarded the Egyptian teen. "I will not stand for your teasing."

"Not like there's much you can do about it!" the blonde shot back, smirking as he watched Bakura's cheeks redden with irritation. The usually calm, cold, and unruffled Bakura seemed to turn into a completely different person when Marik was in the near vicinity. To everyone else, it was amusing. To Bakura, it was certainly an ever present migraine waiting to happen.

Standing up slowly, Marik stretched the muscles of his calves, and stretched his hands high into the air, letting his biceps twitch, and his back to arch as he allowed his ass to stick out in the slightest. He noticed Bakura's gaze, yet again, and felt the corners of his mouth tug up again.

"Come swim," Marik demanded, reaching down and plucking the towel from Bakura's insistent grasp. The pale man let out an undignified noise as the cloth was wrenched from his fingers, and he was immediately shone upon with the wrath of the disappearing sun.

Shooting up, Bakura lurched at Marik, who deftly avoided the grasping hands. Maneuvering himself from out of the other teen's reach, Marik quickly spun about, and kicked up sand with his heels.

Tiny grains erupted from the sole of his foot, and he pushed forward, legs pumping as he raced for the water. The towel, a blue blur above his golden hair, was his flag, stealing it from the neighboring, enemy country that was Bakura's.

He heard Bakura racing up behind him, stamping hard as he kicked up grains as well, attempting to catch up with the already well advanced Marik. And, while Marik was stronger, Bakura happened to have longer, slender legs, and was quite adept at speed. Where Marik was superior in brute strength, Bakura made up in agility and speed.

Just as Marik's foot hit the frothing water, his midback was slammed into, and hands were grasping desperately at his chest as he was bowled over, Bakura trailing comically after him. Both slammed down beneath the waves, and salt was attacking their nostrils, burning.

Bakura reemerged first, wet hair plastered against his pale skin, shimmering silver as it clung to each and every cranny of his body. It outlined his small, rounded shoulders, and stuck to it in either clumps or strands, and hid wide brown eyes, as water was spat from between his lips.

Marik came up next, directly underneath Bakura. His back slammed into Bakura's stomach, and he actually hoisted the smaller teen up until Bakura was hanging across Marik like a tiger rug, fingers trailing the water as Marik supported them both.

Bakura received a mouthful of blonde, salty hair, and spluttered more, craning his neck to avoid more. Apparently, deciding this was the perfect moment to crack a joke, Bakura opened salt tinged lips and-

Allowed his words to die in his throat.

Both he and Marik stared forward comically as something rose in the waves in front of them, almost at the same point where the horizon began, and they lost sight of any other types of ocean.

It was an enormous Rock Lobster.

-(-o-)-

**I Was a Teenage Monster**

Marik slid slowly into the tombs, hand leaving a trailing of dust as the tips of his fingers ran through it. The grimy, caked on exterior was certainly irritating, and Marik knew, later on, his father would demand he go down and clean this disgusting area. After all, they'd just now found the key to this miserable wreck not to long ago.

Slipping a finger into the folds of his tunic, Marik removed a small match, and struck it, holding up the small, snipping flame. He located the torch that was no doubt there, and dropped the match within its cradle, watching the flames shoot, and eat away the dark hungrily.

With a startled pause, Marik noted the small shift in the shadows, from the corner of his eye. His peripheral wasn't strong enough, however, to decipher the true shape, and he quickly whirled about, eyes peering into the gloom.

"Who's there?" Marik demanded. "And how are you even down here?" Marik let that question trail off into the murky air, and he took another step forward. He didn't feel fear, since he didn't really know it. The only person he'd ever feared was his father with a whip in his hand.

"I'm down here," a voice rasped, "since I've been waiting for a tasty morsel such as yourself." Marik gave a slow blink, before squinting his eyes, and stepping forward again, bare feet scuffing the cold, stone floor.

"Who are you?" Marik queried, cocking his head, only true inquisition in his tone as he squinted his eyes further, framing his lavender orbs with blonde lashes.

"I'm a king of the past," the voice stated, before bursting into a wheezing, hacking cough, that sent up a disgusting smell into the air, permeating Marik's breath, and causing the small boy to choke over it.

"Are you sick?" Marik grumbled, clapping a hand over his mouth, and ignoring the other man's obvious attempt at humor. Marik, honestly, couldn't see anything in it to laugh about. "You smell disgusting." The blonde was blunt, and truthful. After all, he knew no other way to be, aside from subdued and scared. But, for this day, with this stranger, he was certainly not.

"I'm not sick," the voice retorted, irritated, and Marik saw the shadows shift, and something came up to the light. "I'm dead." With that proclamation, a haggard face appeared, wrapped solely in bandages that clung to a mishap pen, lumpy face. No blood was pouring from anywhere, but there were numerous wounds speckled across the man's features, showing where previous acts of hatred had been delivered.

"You're dead?" Marik mumbled, confused. He moved closer to the man before him, and reached up hesitant fingers to scrape against the bigger man's hands, which were cracked, and yellowed, wrapped tight about scarred knuckles, and revealing paper thin skin. Marik drifted his appendage upwards, and pressed against the man's wrist.

"Well there is no pulse," the boy commented, craning his neck to regard the man. "So, if you're dead," Marik continued, showing true and clear he had no qualms with talking to a dead man, "who are you for real, and why are you moving?"

"My name is Touzouku-ou," the man above him said slowly, "I am the Thief King, destroyed for my wicked ways."

"Well, Thief King," Marik said abruptly, "I have to clean your whole tomb, so," here, the blonde paused, and gave a vicious smirk, "I will go grab my cleaning supplies, and you will tell me your story."

"Yes," Touzouku-ou mumbled, watching the boy he'd hoped to scare slip from between his rigid fingers, and disappear back out the door. "Yes, I think I will."

-(-o-)-

**Thriller**

"Mariku, I don't like this," an accented, lilting voice complained as the plucking of cloth was heard. The spiky haired man let out a low, annoyed grunt as he turned to face the pallid boy aside him.

"Look, dammit," Mariku grumbled irritably, "Marik snatched up that pretty little Anzu girl, and we're going to get to eater her. Why are you complaining!"

"Maybe because eating human flesh is quite disgusting," the pale boy retorted primly, eyelids closing as he sniffed, and upturned his sharp, small nose, showing distaste. Mariku let out a low groan, and shifted his eyes back to the front.

"You two just shut the fuck up!" Bakura snapped, digging his nails sharply into the ground. "If that dumbass werewolf doesn't get here soon, I'm going chasing after them!" Grinding his teeth together, Bakura let out a low hiss of disapproval, and peeked around absently.

"Careful," Ryou warned, "your head will fall off again."

"He wants that," Mariku sneered, "so he can have his head resting in Marik's lap again. Bet you're wondering just what that fuzzy cock tastes like!" Ryou swatted at Mariku's arm, and watched as the limb detached itself. "Dammit, Ryou!"

"It's what you deserve for your vulgarity," Ryou snapped back, eying Mariku's appendage, before giving an irate sigh. "Give it to me," the white haired teen demanded, holding out a hand and snapping his fingers into his palm repeatedly, and took Mariku's arm delicately in his hand, and pressed it back to the deceased Egyptian's shoulder.

"While you're teasing me," Bakura grumbled, "why don't you just bend Ryou over and fuck him here? The sexual tension between you two is absolutely stupid. You haven't even kissed yet, though you might as well be married, with how you act!" Both of his zombified companions readily ignored that.

Bakura peered, once more, through the brush. Honestly, it was such a pain getting a meal nowadays! Bakura, Ryou, and Mariku happened to be the only resident zombies, due to a chemical spill near their graves. However, even with that said, when they first awoke and discovered their need to dine on human flesh, it had been quite the shock.

Bakura and Mariku had teamed up, the perfect duo. They'd been ruthless in life, and had often slurped up blood, or bitten a chunk from a person just for show. Now that it was a necessity, it wasn't such a bad thing.

Ryou, of course, had been a different story. He wasn't a pansy about it, but he had a certain dislike for it. The boy wasn't ready to throw away his second chance of life, though, even if it did mean some bits of his body fell off, or his eye sometimes dropped from its socket, and he wasn't allowed to enter a convenience story anymore, unless it was around Halloween time.

None of them cared, and were just ready to live a life again.

This had all changed, of course, when a new flesh eater had stepped onto their city. Much like its name, Domino City, the place itself ran on a chain of Domino effects, much like the one that happened when three teenage boys found themselves resurrected.

The boys had taken to slowly stalking humans, getting used to their new, lethargic bodies. The change hadn't been easy, but slow, hard, and grueling, with losing many pieces, organs falling out, and sometimes vomiting up black, sludge-like blood.

They'd only take adults, and track them down until they got into a small, cornered off alley, where they'd attack the body. Their first few attacks, due to slow movements, had had a lot of struggle, with noise, and alerts. After a month or so, though, with food in their stomachs, and new knowledge of their bodies, they were swift animals of prey.

Soon after, though, a new threat came. A boy by the name of Marik Ishtar.

Marik Ishtar, it turned out, had discovered that he was a werewolf, and was taking it out on the citizens of Domino City. This caused complications for the zombies, for the mere fact that if they cornered a victim, Marik would often swoop down. Victims seemed like an easy thing to come across, but they really weren't. Not many humans went strolling down alleyways for no reason. It just wasn't logical.

After all, it wasn't like they were fucking Edward Cullen, seducing people into following them down a dark alley. Though, reflecting back, even if they did have the appearance of a sexy, live, male, what were the chances that someone would follow them into a darkened area? Honestly!

So, after a while, a pissed off Bakura finally tracked Marik down, and demanded the boy leave their kills alone. Marik merely told Bakura to 'calm his tits', and coaxed the zombie into making an agreement with him. The zombies had agreed, and now they relied on Marik's human appearance to lead meals in to them, since he was a very convincing figure.

Blonde hair, beautiful, caramel skin that made people (namely Bakura) wish to lick him, and savor the taste on their lips. His fingernails were always immaculate, ready, consistently, for the Change that would happen when even the smallest sliver of the moon breached the indigo sky, and brought forth jagged claws, and bared fangs, that looked so out of place until a miniature hairy muzzle sprouted from a smooth featured face, and gave a twisted, demonic, but still humanoid look to the wondrous Egyptian.

"And here comes the devil," Mariku rumbled, looking sideways to Ryou as, indeed, a striking young figure was making his way down the road, laughing all the while. A nice, busty girl was walking along beside him, grinning also as she told a story. She stayed a nice distance from Ishtar, and she had her short brown hair bobbed back into a ponytail, that waggled around a delicious looking neck.

"So, Ishtar," the girl finally breathed, "can I sit next to you in Math? You seem to have a good deal on it." With a decisive nod, the girl gave a brilliant smile, and looked at Marik, hands going to her jean clad hips.

"Well, Anzu, I suppose when you ask in such a sweet way," Marik drawled, "I think I'm going to have to turn you down. After all, here in about a few minutes, I don't think you'll be needing much help with math."

"What do you mean?" Anzu queried, brows furling inwards as she decreased her walking speed, and eyed the flashing bulbs up above uneasily.

"I mean," Marik continued, stopping dead, "that the movie was fun, but now I want a snack, and a few friends of mine are going to help me."

Taking that as their cue, the three zombies arose from the shrubs, and revealed their features to the girl, which were illuminated harshly by the bright bulbs lining the streets.

"Always one or theatrics, aren't you?" Bakura grumbled, sliding forward, his right leg limping as he moved in towards Anzu. The girl made a strangled noise, and fell backwards into Marik's waiting embrace, and squinted her eyes shut tight. Marik let out a low, small chuckle, before shooting a glare at Bakura, and dipping his head down.

"Why, Anzu, my dear, did you really think I was the person to run to?" With that, and one more startled noise from Anzu, Marik was transforming, twisted nails plunging roughly into creamy skin as Anzu shrieked. Marik quieted her, however, by covering her mouth with his own twisted maw, and pressed his teeth roughly into her gaping mouth, shoving his teeth into the wet cave, and delving his tongue into the blood slicked area, tasting her teeth as his forked muscle rubbed them teasingly.

Bakura let out a cry of anger, and shuffled forward, smacking Marik roughly, and drawing the werewolf from his bloody makeout, and watching, with a sick fascination, as Marik detached himself from the girl's lips, and panted, blood pouring down his chin.

"Move out of the way for us," Bakura grumbled, not happy with the way Marik was clinging to the girl, even if it was in a blood mess.

"Oh, do you want a kiss instead, Bakura?" Marik teased, leaning forward, and dropping the long dead Anzu to the ground, where Mariku and Ryou immediately converged on her, teeth hacking her apart, inadvertently brushing against one another.

"And if I did?" Bakura sniffed. "Not like you'd do anything. You _eat_ everyone you date!"

"Shove it, Pet Semetary!"

"Kiss your own hairy back-side!"

"Maybe I'll kiss you instead!" Marik barked back, face morphing into that of a human's once more as he lurched forward, grasping the zombie's face and smashing their lips together. Bakura let loose a groan, and his eyelids fluttered close, and he moved forward, pressing his chest to Marik's, and lining his hips up with the taller man's.

"Necrophilia!" Mariku shouted rudely behind them, wicked, bloody smirk in place as he watched Marik and Bakura quickly stumble away from each other. Marik's face was heated and flushed, whereas Bakura's was turning icy cold, and his cheeks were tinting black to match the sludge circulating his veins.

"Oh, shut it, you ass!" Ryou cried at the spiky haired man, eyes squinting. "At least someone around here has the balls to kiss the person they like!" With that, Ryou shot up, kicked Anzu's body, tossed an eye at Mariku, and dashed away.

"The fuck did I do?" the yami grumbled.

-(-o-)-

**Monster Mash**

"MARIK!" Namu squealed, shooting out from behind a banister as he dragged along an uncomfortable Strings with him. Slender arms stayed locked tight about the sallow, bared arm of the (apparently) mime-like Strings.

"What is it?" Marik growled, turning to regard Namu with irritation. He had been helping decorate this monstrous house that Namu had acquired through family funds.

"Bakura's on his way to help out," the blonde said simply, and fidgeted with his witch dress, humming happily. He lifted up his hands to cradle Strings's hat, and cooed as he saw his apparent 'perfection' reach fruition.

Marik felt heat rise to his cheeks, and he imagined Bakura, his crush for Gods know how long, coming here, seeing Marik dressed in tights and a green dress. Namu had demanded that Marik be Peter Pan, and to keep him quiet, the other had obliged. Of course, at the time, he'd been assuming he'd be surrounded by general strangers, and his one friend, Namu.

Not Bakura.

"And speak of the devil he's here!" Namu giggled deviously, and snagged up Strings's hand as he dragged the mute boy away, laughing demonically. Knowing the little asshole, he'd probably planned this...

"Why, Ishtar!" a voice drawled behind him, "such nice shapely legs you have." Flushing already, Marik whirled around, and stared into the hard brown eyes of Bakura Touzouku, and glared at the sharp horns protruding from beneath a mass of white hair, that trickled downwards to a red, robe clad body, and the pitchfork placed into a crisp, skeletal hand.

"I know my legs look good," Marik retorted, not giving an inch, "but I guess you'll never know till they're wrapped around you hips, when I'm screaming your name."

Bakura gave a slow blink, before twirling the pitchfork in his fingers, deftly avoiding Marik's features. "That's right, but then I'll have you bouncing up and down on these three spikes, seeing just how much you can take."

"Bakura," Marik said testily, clear sarcasm in his voice, "Oh how I just can't wait."

"Well there are plenty of rooms," Bakura teased back, giving a vicious smirk.

"I think I'm more entertained by this spider," Marik replied, hoisting up one of the fake, plastic, hair covered pieces, and tossing it into Bakura's hair, watching as it tangled itself in the strands, "then having sex with you."

"All right," Bakura appealed, dropping low, and running his tongue along Marik's ear. "But we'll see how you feel after a long night of dancing, huh?"

-(-o-)-

**Sleepy Hollow**

"Dammit, Mariku, keep your head on!" a voice quipped, as a small, white haired boy strode angrily up to a black horse, watching as the muscles along the beast twitched and writhed. "You're making your horse nervous, and you're not going to be able to go out riding!"

"Fine, fine," a voice cried, muffled from within the folds of Ryou's chest, and a spiked head of hair was hoisted high into the air, and plopped down onto a neck lacking a certain cranium that was quite important.

With the head attached to his neck, Mariku gave it a sharp twist, and blinked slowly, working his jaw and rolling his neck. "That's never pleasant," the man grumbled, before swooping down and delivering a kiss to Ryou's mouth, working his lips slowly against the other boy's.

He pulled Ryou up to the horse's belly, so he could have easy access to the boy's buttocks, groping the jean clad area, and letting out a low moan as his tongue traced the boy's lips. Ryou let out a pleasured noise, and a pallid hand shot up, rubbing softly at Mariku's crotch.

The blonde let out a sharp noise, and lurched his hips, unfortunately causing his body and head to go different ways. Ryou gave a frightened cry as he was suddenly kissing a detatched head, and then the spiked head of hair was free-falling to the ground.

"Dammit Mariku!"

-(-o-)-

**Alright! This is because I couldn't quite figure out a single story I wouldn't to do fully, so I just kinda... Mashed up all together in little snippits. That said, some of them aren't so little and this is actually pretty long but uh.. Yeah. **

**But these are really just fragmented snippits and ideas. So they're not supposed to be ~full~ stories.**

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN!**


	36. Chapter 36: German Pickle

**Hey I'm Moony I like to ruin holidays for you. :l**

Sliding his body along the rough carpet, Bakura felt his skin drag and tear as he was caught upon the fibers of the carpet that had crusted over with his own bile. A long, drawn out groan burst from his lips as his shoulders pressed against the shaggy surface, lips brushing along the tender edges and slicing apart the skin.

His eyes clamped tight as he resisted the tears that burned upon the back of his lids, orbs swelling and pulsing at the effort as his face reddened. The blood rolling delicately down his chin accented this simple thing, and fell to the carpet below, sliding down the fibers and collecting at the bottom, a mere hinderance for later.

Cracking his eyes open in the slightest, he saw a black boot drawing closer, and a strangled cry erupted from his mangled throat as he squirmed faster. The green rope that was clasped tight about his skin dug deeper, as all the different Christmas themed-bulbs pressed roughly into his skin. Some were already shattered, digging the shards ever further in and deviating the flesh from its natural position.

"Now where oh where are you going?" The voice was like a rock grating overtop a brick wall, that scraping, awful sound that resounded through Bakura's ear as he snarled. His body writhed futilely in its bonds, but of course to no avail as a soft hand came down, snagging the back of his neck.

He was hoisted high, a soft, dark-skinned face looming into his vision. He watched the sinister grin that slowly curled the features, stretching taut the skin and causing a shudder to race through Bakura's spine as he soon had lips slammed upon his own. Bakura's jaw popped wide as a thick tongue pushed betwixt his lips, stroking at his own with its unnatural length and size.

Bakura made a small, choking noise as he writhed in the other man's grip, eyes squinting about tears as felt the slippery intrusion roaming his dry mouth. A small groan came from the tanned man as hands gripped roughly at Bakura's hips, pressing against the skin and letting out a groan of satisfaction as he tugged at the Christmas lights binding Bakura's body up.

"I hope you didn't expect to leave this party so early," the voice simpered, tossing Bakura away from his person. The paler man stumbled backwards, heels tripping over the glass spattered carpet as he was roughly spun round, crashing into a Christmas tree as he slipped to his knees, letting out a sharp cry as his knees collided sharply with the carpet, face given harsh ruby lines of pain from the plastic branches.

"Marik," Bakura hissed, lifting a hazy gaze to peer angrily at the blonde looming above him. Any other time, the ex-tombkeeper could've passed for handsome. Could've passed for beautiful, really. His soft face that delicious color, with large expressive lavender eyes rimmed and brought out by thick lines of kohl that stretched along his lids. His lips were pursed into a smile, and he had one hand resting atop his shapely hip, muscled arms flexing for that small moment, reveling in the power he had over Bakura.

His body was clad in leather britches that clung tight to his body, revealing the muscle tone there that had been so well hidden during their partnership in Battle City. In return, however, as almost a joke, his abdomen had been concealed now by a simple, tight black wifebeater, with a golden dragon curling around the seams of it, and reaching out its neck in a sign of true power.

"Bakura," he replied softly, eyes lidding themselves in a small moment as his tongue slid out, tickling the edges of his lips as those heavy black boots thudded against the carpet, drawing Marik ever closer. There was a small sway as to how he walked, almost like a snake, as the psychotic boy drew closer, eyes staying locked on the cringing Bakura.

"So broken," Marik whispered, dropping down to his knees before Bakura and bloodying his own knees. Unlike Bakura, however, he made no noise. The small crinkle at the corner of his eye was the only tell-tale of his pain as he brought his hands up, cupping Bakura's chin and letting out a dulcet moan as he ducked in, licking beneath the green binding wire to lap at Bakura's ripped skin.

"You bastard," Bakura hissed, jerking his shoulders in an attempt to free himself, but only managing to lodge several broken shards of the Christmas baubles deeper into his skin. "You dirty rat bastard," the pallid man continued, gnashing his teeth at Marik's cheek, almost hoping to grab hold of the skin and rip.

"Tell me all the things I am," Marik encouraged, slipping his tender hands down from lovingly holding Bakura's cheeks, to gripping rudely at Bakura's throat, crushing on the asophagus and pushing backwards, pressing Bakura even further back into the uncomortable tree. "Tell me how bad I am, show me your spirit," the blond continued, a manic look coming into his eyes as the whites showed more clearly, glistening in the flickering lights. "It'll just be all the more fun to break you and show you how strong I am."

"God damned," Bakura barked, writhing more against the ropes that held him, "fucking power hungry slut," he ground out, letting out a sharp cry of surprise as fingers grabbed at the waistband of his pants. He could see the blood-sopped edges peeling back from his skin, shouting in pain as his skin was stretched and pulled from where it had stuck to the fabric.

"You won't be needing these," Marik chuckled, looking almost like his yami as his face stretched and throbbed with joy at this moment. The pants hitched lower, bundling about Bakura's knees as the paler man writhed about, twisting like a serpent in a mad struggle to escape Marik's grasp.

"Marik, you pompous little asshole LET ME GO!" Bakura shrieked, lashing out a kick and catching Marik in his stomach. With a grunt, the other man doubled over, only effectively pinning Bakura down as he crushed against the smaller boy, a small gasp escaping his lips as Bakura's foot retracted.

Marik was silent for a moment, head pressed to Bakura's chest for a small moment as he seemingly regained his senses and breath. Before long, however, a slow, drawn out laugh elicted itself from Marik's throat, throbbing upwards as he lifted his harsh lavender gaze, locking onto Bakura's own widened eyes.

"No mercy," Marik intoned, hand shooting forward and grabbing an abandoned shard from Bakura's skin, jerking it backwards and holding it between two fingers as he watched Bakura squirm with pain. His hand a blur, Marik brought it harshly down Bakura's body, slicing through the undergarments the Spirit wore, and ripping apart the cloth as he jerked it away from Bakura's slender frame.

Tossing his head to the side, Bakura let out a sharp gasp as his privates were bared to the cold air, and he flinched at the thought of all the precarious glass laying about, and what would happen were he to be stabbed anywhere near such places.

Marik, however, seemed to have no such qualms as he shifted his hands down to his own britches, popping the buttons and zipper with a flourish to reveal himself to Bakura. And, apparently, due to Bakura's observations, this whole thing had been a turn on for Marik.

Sick bastard.

"Now," Marik continued, leaning forward and grasping the end of the Christmas lights. He gave them a sharp tug, and began unraveling, slowly unwinding it from Bakura's body and allowing the pale man to let out a small groan of thankfulness that he was being released.

It was quickly ruined, however, as Marik swung his hand around above his head, before lashing forward roughly, cracking the wires against Bakura's stomach, and relishing in the scream the followed. An angry red whelp rose roughly atop the skin, and Bakura stumbled back down to his seated position, eyes wide as the pain flared through his body.

"I've had something planned for you," Marik chuckled softly, licking at his lips again before turning away. His back was shown to the downed Bakura as the larger man lumbered away, broad shoulders shifting as he moved throughout the room.

Bakura felt a mild spark of curiosity, before brushing it away, and slowly scrambling to his feet. His legs shook beneath him as he slowly reached down, fingers grasping desperately for the fringes of his pants, tips dancing along the rim, tightening about them and dragging them back up his body.

Before he could get his pants situated comfortably on his hips, however, Marik was back, a fearsome look in his eyes as he stared at Bakura. The pallid man, for his part, felt the burning gaze, and reluctantly released his britches, and watched them fall in a heap once more around his ankles.

"Good pet," Marik purred, slipipng forward once more, fingers clamped tight about something. Bakura narrowed his eyes, and noticed a small green glisten that erupted from the object, its smooth appearance merely interrupted by small little bumps that decorated the surface at random intervals.

"A german pickle?" Bakura balked, not able to stop himself as he stared reluctantly at the glass bauble. He knew, from residing within Ryou's body, how the German Pickle worked. You hid it somewhere, and the one who happened to find it got an extra present for Christmas.

"A german pickle," Marik replied with a small nod, lifting the object to his lips and slowly licking around the tip of it, twirling his saliva coated appendage about and, and eyeing Bakura meaningfully as he did so. A shudder raced through Bakura's spine like the horses at a derby, his mind recognizing, now, what Marik planned to do with that.

"Gods no," Bakura whispered, lurching back and slammed into the tree again, actually managing to knock the thing down from its stand. He let out a sharp cry as he went sprawling to the floor with it, landing in a mess among the broken, blood stained branches. He remembered yesterday, when things had been so normal, and he and Marik had been setting up this stupid tree for stupid Ryou. It was the one thing his host had asked for, for Christmas, and Bakura had reluctantly agreed.

He and Marik had danced, sang, laughed! They had shared marshmallows and popcorn, wine sipping was there, too. Bakura, of course, had been forced into all of this, a reluctant smile on his face as he inwardly enjoyed it, the closeness to the Egyptian boy.

Ryou had stayed to the side, not bothering to interupt their festivities as the two villains had a good time, wrapped up in one another, and, even at one point, they had been wrapped in each others arms, heads pressing together as Marik laid butterfly kisses along Bakura's neck, leading up to the ear.

Bakura had relished in it all, loving the feeling of the blonde touching and kissing him.

But then Bakura had made the mistake of pushing Marik underneath him.

It had been a playful tussle at first, with Marik atop him as they romped about, having a merry time. The tree had long ago been set up, and the lights were like the bobbing faeries of old in the background, almost urging the wondrous mood they were both in. Bakura, though weaker, had finally gotten the uperhand in their play, and had pushed at the surprised Marik's shoulders, and carried his body mass up and over the other man, pinning Marik to the ground.

In an instant it was apparent that it had been the wrong move. Marik's eyes widened, and his lips pulsed open, allowing a strangled noise to rip itself from deep within the hell that was Marik's vocal chords. His eyes had raced and darted, his mind lost in those memories of being with his father, no control as he was shoved aside and whipped and beaten.

That was when things went wrong.

Marik had lashed out, slamming Bakura into a wall with rage burning bright in his eyes. The fear Marik held was almost tangible, and Bakura could've sworn he tasted it on his tongue as the boy tossed him away, a sob breaking free from Marik, before the blonde had raced away.

Bakura, on his part, wasn't a very caring person. He had thought of perhaps trying to comfort Marik, but had decided it wasn't his problem, and had curled up on the sofa, ready to sleep the night away.

Then he'd woken up, wrapped tight in Christmas lights with baubles slamming and shattering against his skin as Marik teased him all the while, that manic look in his eyes as he watched Bakura struggle.

When Yugi and Co. had deemed Marik 'friendship' material, and had disregarded the fact that Marik had once been a psycho, that had been their mistake, and Bakura's for going along with it. To long had Marik been under the reign of his yami, father, and the horrible secrets and imagination that thrived within that prettily shaped skull. One little hero adventure did not take away the years of torment Marik had been subject to.

He wasn't any less insane then when Bakura first met him.

And this was being proven as Marik strode ever closer, giggling like a child as he clutched the german pickle in his hand, eyes hungrily roaming Bakura's body as he slid to his knees before the other man, grin full on as he lurched forward, grasping Bakura's hair and giving it a rough pull as he jerked the other man to face him.

"God bless us with this ass," Marik cooed, dipping down and gripping Bakura's hip, jerking the unwilling spirit into a kneeling position, bottom facing the blonde's crotch as he raced the german pickle along Bakura's spine. "For we shall feast on it, and give thanks."

Bakura let out a sharp cry of protest, and jerked once more, before he felt something pressing against his entrance. Screeching, Bakura writhed once more, body convulsing as he felt the unwelcome pickle pressing inside of him, cracks forming along the edges as the object was put underneath the pressure of Bakura's innards.

Marik merely let loose a slow gasp, before switching his positions, leaving the pickle in place as he positioned himself impatiently in front of Bakura, cock nudging Bakura's face needily as he stared hazily at the man he held captive.

Bakura let out a groan of pain and disintrest, before Marik was pushing himself into Bakura's mouth, jerking his hips roughly, not caring about the gagging, sobbing noises that escaped Bakura.

"I'm in charge," Marik panted, tongue lolling out as he arched his back, other hand rising up to reach round Bakura, grasping the pickle and pushing it in even farther. Bakura's mouth stretched wide in a muffled screech, but Marik ignored him, and just thrust even harder into Bakura's mouth, balls brushing against Bakura's chin as he panted, twisting as well as the injured man beneath him.

"I'm in charge of you!" the blonde exclaimed, thrusts frantic as giggles left his lips, clambering into the air as he shrieked with joy. He felt himself reaching his peak, and gave a devilish grin as he pushed himself roughly to the back of Bakura's throat, cumming into the unwilling man's throat, before pulling himself from Bakura's mouth.

Bakura spluttered and choked, almost willing himself to throw up as he slumped the upper half of his body to the ground, tears finally spilling from his eyes as he dragged his nails through the carpet, spitting the white stubstance from his mouth, and letting out hacking noises, much like that of a choking cat.

Marik, for his part, merely gave a dazed grin, and slumped back, humming happily as he lowered himself to the carpet, not even bothering to touch the pickle still lodged in Bakura's body. He let out a soft, sleepy sigh, and curled in on himself, a complacent grin on his features as he ignored the defiled Bakura.

-(-o-)-

Marik let out a small groan as he roused himself, body stirring with an aching in his limbs he wasn't entirely sure of. Last night all seemed to be a blur of pleasure, and his eyes were still crusted over as he drew his eyelids open. He was startled as, above him, Bakura crouched, face tear and blood streaked with jagged hashes down the stark features.

"Good morning Marik," Bakura purred softly, and the blonde immediately felt on edge at the sound of that quavering, quaking voice. It sounded much like Marik when he went off balance, and succumbed to those horrid memories of his childhood.

A shaky, quaking grin raced its way across Bakura's face, and the man drew up a startling green object. Cracks raced across it, webbing themselves out in interesting patterns of racing lines. A small chip was in it, and Bakura gave a small wince as his eyes noted it, too, eyes reflecting a sadness that Marik wasn't aware Bakura could even have.

"I just wanted to let you know," Bakura whispered, before his grin returned, and he gripped the pickle tightly in his hands, quickly lowering it to Marik's mouth, smirk stretching farther and farther as he leered down at the blonde. "I found the pickle."

-(-o-)-

**Next on my to-do list: Vore.**

**And maybe some fluff.**

**To make up for ruining one of my favorite holidays.**

**:L**

**And as for this ending, use context clues, and guess what happened. Honestly, neither of them are right in the head, so there's always the genuine possibility that Bakura just wanted to let Marik know that he found the pickle.**

**And yes. That missing piece is still in Bakura's ass.**

**Review if you like, if you actually read this...**


	37. Chapter 37: Bad Deathshipping

**Note: This is based off of the Every Bad Puzzleshipping Fic Ever done by UnnecessaryCheese on Tumblr.**

** Lady S also did the Thiefshipping one.**

**I did this Deathshipping one a while back, but still.**

Ryou ran away from the large Egyptian behind him, tears pouring from his eyes as he sobbed, his already apparently gender-confused voice rising even higher in pitch. His lovely hips that boys just magically have when they're as kawaii and shota as Ryou's moved in a lovely rythm as he pounded away.

A hand snatched at his hair, and Ryou crumpled backwards, no muscle strength at all to help him fight as he dropped limply in the other man's grip. Mariku, the fearsome yami, towered over top him, and quickly threw him to the ground.

"Oh whatever are you going to do?" Ryou whispered, lips trembling as he drew himself up, accidently shoving his ass way into the air, the natural position shocking Mariku into feeling lust instead of deep hatred.

"I'm going to fuck you," the yami said blatantly, stumbling forward and quickly unbuckling his pants.

"OH NO!" Ryou cried, curling up, as if to protect his soft virginity. After all, sweet little Ryou was only a sixteen year old boy! However could he know of such a scary thing as sex?

"OH YES!" Mariku responded, quickly wrestling Ryou to the floor, and dominating the other boy. He sloppily licked at Ryou like a wild animal, leaving drool everywhere, and magically it turned Ryou on.

"OH GODS HOW DID YOU KNOW I LOVE IT WHEN PUPPIES LICK ME?"

"I know everything!" Mariku roared, before quickly dragging Ryou's britches down the boys hips, pushing them to the floor. Ryou was luckily not wearing underwear, and Mariku's job was just made so much easier.

Despite the fact that he was the one seeking pleasure, and he didn't care about Ryou at all, he began sucking the other boy off. He sensed when Ryou was bursting, judging by the boy's mewls, so he pulled up and quickly pulled off his own pants.

"OH MARIKU YOU'RE SO BIG!" Ryou cried, tears coming again as he beheld the wondrous sight of Mariku's giant, 4.6 to the seventh power cock. "However will that fit inside my tight virgin hole?" the whittete pouted, sobbing some more, his face lit like lighter in a cow barn.

"And you're so small," Mariku replied in a condesending voice, before putting his cock to the boy's hole.

"BUT MARIKU!" Ryou cried. "Despite my total virginness and lack of knowledge on sex, even I know that you need lube and preperation!"

Mariku merely smirked. "We'll just use your blood."

"OH OKAY."

And with that Mariku plunged in, moving his hips back and forth in a frantic motion, not caring if his own dick was hurting from the small asshole, or the rough walls and lack of preperation. What was pain to this mortal body he possessed? Afer all, his giant cock gave him super powers.

Ryou, beneath him, was a crying mess. "It hurts," Ryou whined, that being his only complaint.

"It'll feel better soon, baby," Mariku managedd through gritted teeth.

Ryou was dubious, but soon, he felt pleasure, despite the profuse amount of blood pouring from his ass. He began screaming, writhing, and lunging upwards, kissing Mariku, and shouting to the Gods how thankful he was for being raped.

"OH MARIKU I CAN FEEL YOU TOUCHING MY SPLEEN!"

"IT FEELS WONDERFUL, DOESN'T IT?"

They both came together, Ryou actually being propelled off of Mariku with the force of the larger man's cumshot. After all, he was so massive it just made sense. Licking up the hot, lava-like liquid, Ryou quickly reached up and kissed Mariku.

"Oh, Mariku, I don't care that you ravished me and pulled rape, then literally tore me a new one, and I'll probably have to wear a tampon up my ass to keep me from losing control over my bowels continuously," Ryou whispered, "I just want you to know that I love you."

"I love you too," Mariku mumbled, and he just suddenly realizd it was true. He loved the little hikari he had claimed.

"But now you'll have to fight Bakura," Ryou warned, "since he loves me so much and I'm his special little boy and he'll never let me go because he just cares about me that much apparently."

"I'll take the pussy on," Mariku replied, grinning evilly as he leaned forward. "Now let's have a round 2.

-(-o-)-

**All right I needed to put this somewhere so I can delete it off my computer. **

**But I'm a horrible pack rat and was like WELL WHAT IF I NEED THIS LATER (though really common sense would dictate that I will never need this... EVER.) but still. It has now been immortalized.**

**Good Lord.**

**I'm sorry if I offended anyone...**

**But it was fun.**


	38. Chapter 38: Skull Fuckery

**Also getting this off of my computer**

**Warnings for Necrophilia, Thiefshipping, and penis chomping**

A small, frothing white hills of glistening jack-o-lantern's rose high into the darkened sky, the roiling purple atmosphere only giving even more of that taboo air to the world. Black froths of wind seemed to brush through the area, lifting up small scraps of hair that clung tight to the chilling craniums atop leering grins.

Hoisted up high and residing atop their fragmented bodies was a slender man, of mediocre height, with white hair spilling down over his shoulders and blanketing his body with their wily strands of hair. His small hands were spread wide, fingers clasped tight about a special little skull that held a small spot deep in his heart, with the blank, lifeless eyes and blood crusted cheekbones that almost seemed to resemble that of a blush.

"Fair maiden," the man purred, lips pulling themselves high upon the pallid face, stretching the already unnaturally thin skin to what some would consider a breaking point. Blue veins throbbed beneath their owners suit of meat, but he payed them no heed, and instead began trailing a crusted fingernail about the sockets. "Oh, but you always did hate me calling you feminine, did you not, Marik?" he chuckled, moving his lips forward, and pressing them harshly to the bones residing within Marik's skeletal face.

He let out a grunt of pleasure as his lips skittered nimbly across the opened mouth, his slick tonge crawling from betwixt his hungry mouth and prying Marik's jaw apart even wider, wanting that connection that he knew they had.

"My perfect little golden, sun-kissed love," Bakura mumbled, not really caring how sappy he sounded as he drew Marik's head in closer, fingers pressing to the back of the skull and watching as small flakes slid away beneath his inquisitive fingers, and he pushed the head to his chest, letting out a low moan.

"So eager, so eager!" Bakura chastised, but gave a slow, calming smile as he ripped his shirt down the middle, and pressed the cold, lifeless cranium to his chest, letting out a shuddering, quaking breath as those sharp teeth slid open and closed up on his skin.

"Yes, yes," Bakura hissed, staring down, and watching as his fingers roamed the skull across his skin, and let it nudge softly at a nipple, teasing and pushing at the skin, willing it to perk up and revel at the moment, much like another such thing that was waiting a bit lower.

Bakura continued the teasing, loving the way Marik's head felt pressed to his body as his fingers calculated the way he wanted it all to go, and the way he wanted to feel. Never had it been so easy when Marik was alive! Never had it felt so good! The blonde had been such a lovely partner, but his spirit, feistiness, and altogether inability to be commanded made it such a pain at times!

No, no, this was much, much better.

Feeling a shudder wrack his body, Bakura realized that the time had come for the grand finale. He bobbed his fingers, causing Marik's head to do a similar action, seemingly nipping ever so slightly at the fringe of his blue jeans, before his free hand slid down, and undid his britches, slipping them down his thighs.

Stretching his legs wide, he felt the clothes about his ankles anchoring him down, before the gooseflesh began to rise up. Anticipation crawled in every part of his body as he felt a small gasp trickle past his lips, coaxing the soft, nibbled on skin, before his hand grasped the base of his cock, fingers wrapped softly around the hardened flesh.

Raising up Marik's skull for one final, tender kiss, he pushed the cranium downards, and felt the sharp clack of teeth again his cock. Groaning, Bakura's head flew back, hair a wild spray like the froth atop a wave, rolling with this ocean of ecstacy as his dick shoved higher into the cavern formed of Marik's skeleton.

"Yes, yes," Bakura moaned, teeth clacking harshly together as he bobbed the skull, watching the shimmering white ride the area, his noises of pleasure breaking free in a cacophony of calls, the pleasure mounting higher then it ever had with Marik's living body pressed down between his legs.

This was perfection.

This was joy.

And this was the feeling of teeth slicing down when they shouldn't have.

One of Bakura's legs hitched high as his jaw slid downwards, a silent shriek escaping his mouth to become a mere puff of wind coiling about with the rest of the air that roiled within the Shadow Realm's confinements. His pupils slid backwards, becoming mere, shimmering dots amidst a sea of brown as they lowered themselves to the gore now residing between his legs.

In his eupohoric pleasure, Bakura had happened to press to hard, to busy reveling in the wondrous feeling to notice his folly. The teeth of the skull had come crashing down, slipping through sensitive flesh and nipping their way through veins that pulsed full of blood.

Gushing from behind the teeth there was a red river, slivering down each crack that had formed from Bakura's bruising grip, as his cock was severed in half, the mid-point and tip resting between teeth that punctured it roughly, squeezing even more blood from the slats that they had made.

All about Bakura's thighs were a blood mess of scraps that had happened to tear themselves free. His toes shook from the pain, and his fists tightened, eyeing what was left of his ruined manhood - the simple fragment that flapped uselessly about his balls, coating them with blood, and slipping even more to the skulls beneath Bakura's prone form.

Bakura's body shook once more, and he jerked, head flopping back and crashing down atop the skulls, as his hand released Marik's finally. The skull slid to its bretheren with a hearty noise, carrying their owner's cock clasped between his teeth much like a flag of victory over the defeat of the tiresome Bakura.


	39. Chapter 39: Red Haze

**Rate: M**

**Warning: Death and Guro (I think)**

**Pairing(s): Maybe Thiefshipping... Sort of Thiefshipping. Yup.**

"You know today is Valentines Day," Marik had said suddenly, his voice resounding from the stretch of mahogonay plush that created their couch. Bakura had paused, eyes ticking to the blonde figure that occupied the piece of furniture. He felt something akin to a small sliver of ice slithering down the bumps of his spine, nestling itself down in the core of his stomach, the ice becoming a shimmering glacier that rested on choppy waves.

Something about the sentence had been off, Bakura supposed. Perhaps the tone of distance that happened to color the voice, or the odd way in which had been said. Random. Like a psychotic chip tossed in when you were to intoxicated to think of what you were really doing. That, or you just didn't have enough wits about you to realize the entirety of what was happening.

Then again, Bakura couldn't say he was surprised.

Marik had never been quite right, he didn't even need to reflect to call this to mind. As he rose from his seat in the kitchen, mug clasped tightly between his spindly fingers, his mind reflected back to the vast difference between this Marik, and the one who had seemed to have recovered after his dark side had been banished.

It seemed as if everything was progressivly down hill. A small decline of sanity, if one wished to say as such. Everything that Marik had hoped to claim, and hoped to do with his life had crumbled brick by painful, bloody brick before his watchful eyes. Everything Marik had stood for had toppled to the earth in a cascade of blank retchedness that now seemed to envelop the once thoughtful parnter.

Bakura took a small sip from the tea, allowing it to brush past his lips and traverse down his throat, all the while his gaze locked upon the boy seated beside him. Marik was hunkered over, gaze vacant as he stared forward, eyes staring dully at the wall as his hands hung limply before him. As Bakura watched, a small tic began in his cheek, as if his teeth were constantly gnashing against one another.

Grimacing, Bakura's mug was soon placed on the coffee table, his hand reaching out in all hesitancy. Human contact was something he still didn't entirely relish in. Not to say he didn't want it - he'd just never dealt with it. How did one react to a sudden onslaught of something that was so alien?

His hand soon lay on Marik's thigh, squeezing the muscle in a silent gesture. He didn't know what to make of this shell of a man that sat beside him on the couch. There seemed to be nothing residing of the Marik Ishtar that had captured the Spirit of the Ring's attention. No more flash of vengeance, or the cunning look in Marik's eyes as he concuted a new plan to further avenge both he and Bakura.

Nothing at all.

If anything, Marik had become a whole new entity. Much like he'd created his darker half, Bakura could almost entertain the notion that Marik had created yet a whole new side of himself. The thought never lasted long, but it was certainly always lingering there, tickling the back of his mind no matter what he did. And he often thought about the Marik that he knew never recovering, and never returning to him.

With a slow, measured blink, Bakura wasn't entirely sure what emotions that thought stirred, if any at all. Removing his hand, and positioning in his own lap, he stared at the mug. It was a simple, white, brown staned mug. Porcelain, he guessed. He'd never really stopped to think about it, or to break it.

Just like Marik, he thought, eyelids fluttering momentarily as his thoughts gave a vicious churn. Nobody ever stopped to think that Marik would break because of their actions. No one stopped to think just how fragile Marik was, or what he was made of. In his already precarious mental state, everything that had happened had just been a vicious, thirty foot drop to a stone cold tiled floor, shattering his pieces into little splinters. Now the glass just lay splattered haphazardly around, each glinting piece their, but none of them joined together, and he would never be whole again.

Heaving a slight sigh, Bakura's thin chest rose and fell, ribs pressing against his skin as he shook his head, white strands fluttering about his pointed features. Marik had stayed fully silent after his first sentence, not even reacting at Bakura's movements or lapses into thought.

But now he spoke again.

"I think I'd like something for Valentines Day." The voice was rough and cracked, like an injured animal loping free from Marik's throat. Each syllable was a pain, and Bakura winced at the mere sound of Marik's deteriorated vocal chords. Once Bakura had had problems getting Marik to be silent. Now, it was the exact opposite, and yet again Bakura was brought to attention the mystifying question of: how did such things make him feel?

He wasn't sure.

"I think I'd like for you to snap out of this," Bakura replied smoothly instead, voice throbbing softly free unlike the crippled, pathetic croaks Marik had produced. Straightening his back, Bakura pushed his hair back, almost like a preening animal preparing for a show to either mate or enemy. His eyes stayed locked upon Marik's features, snowy lashes dipping occasionally into his line of sight, rejuvinating his eyes as if one second missed would leave him in a black abyss - Marik's reaction forever unknown.

The response was certainly disappointing. "Maybe a heart," Marik had murmured, his line of sight flickering to rest on that of a book. Bakura stared at it for a moment, noting that it appeared to be some sort of romance novel. He wasn't sure why they had it. He recalled buying books, and he supposed he'd just gotten a bit grab happy, and had just snagged something up. Perhaps in an attempt to sell it later for a higher price?

Either way, he noted that the cover had a cartoon version of the heart. That stupid symbol of curved lines, nothing at all like the pulsing, powerful muscles in the cavity of his chest, pounding away and keeping him alive. The thing humans seem to take for granted at how precious each little pulse of it was.

Bakura gave a disdainful sniff, turning his head slightly. Marik was clearly talking nonsense, and he wanted nothing to do with it. It would only irritate him that such gibberish was leaving the mangled mouth, coming straight from the mess that was Marik's mind.

Staning up, he snagged up his mug, downing the tea. As the comforting liquid slithered down his throat, soothing his nerves and relaxing him, he made his way to the kitchen. Each step brought forth memories of Battle City, in all their grandeur, when Marik had been such a prideful partner, so bright and strong with a life of conniving crimes stretched ahead of him. All of it gone.

Bakura went to put the mug in the sink, and his fingers fluttered for a moment, a small spasm of the muscles. He watched as the mug slipped free of his grip, and went tumbling towards the aluminum. Dismayed, he saw the pieces fracture, erupting into a spiderweb of cracks that soon deviated from one another in a splurge of tinkling shards.

Hissing, Bakura fully retracted his hand, staring at the uninjured appendage. Giving it one more glance over, he stared at what had once been his mug. Some of the solid chunks had already slithered down into the drain, becoming large obtrusions for the smaller fragments.

Giving it one more final glance, he passed it off with a wave of his hand. He didn't want to deal with that just yet. After a small night's sleep, he'd come in with the wet washcloth and swipe it up. For now, however, he was calling a 'good night' over his shoulder to the practically comatose Marik, not really caring if the other male heard or not. It wasn't like he'd react, either way the pendulum swung.

Clambering into his bed, Bakura reflected that the rest of his life might very well be spent like this. A quiet, awkward state of existance with a partner that couldn't even talk about relevant subjects that didn't pertain to something his mind had already been set upon for a prolonged amount of time.

Clamping his eyes shut, Bakura sneered at the very thought. He wouldn't stay for long, if this was all that was left. He couldn't. He wouldn't. This was no way for him - a Master Thief and an exactor of revenge - to act. He'd hoped Marik could swing back around, and offer his knowledge and cunning, sly personality to the equation. Those chances were slim to none, though, and he wasn't going to wait forever.

In the morning, he'd leave.

-(-o-)-

Marik slunk into the bedroom. Small squares of light from outside streetlamps filtered in, throwing small patches of white light splashed across the carpet in rows, mimicking the pattern of the blinds. Occasionally a car would drift past, illuminating the pale blinds in their soft red glow.

Marik stared at the light for a moment, gaze seemingly stuck on the alternating colors. Each vibrant dash that rose and fell had captured his interest, his brain working in a wholesome rut that trundled along, thoughts abstract and focused on pulsing life and the ever-constant scenery now chaning with each second all because of miniature factors that were wild cards thrown into Marik's ordinary mix.

A slight shudder wracked his body, though, and he was brought about to the initial task of even entering this room. Peering around, he realized he'd never actually been in the room. Never had the motivation nor the reason. He only knew it was Bakura's room due to the Spirit continuously disappearing into it night after night, leaving Marik to sit slumped over on the couch.

Marik was surprised Bakura had stayed so long.

There were small moments, after all, where Marik could recieve some type of clarity. He could practically see himself there, body limp like a corpse as he doubled over on himself. His eyes had become sunken and black, skeletal in every appearance and regard.

It was in those moments that his mind had pieced together that Bakura would not stay. Bakura had bigger ideals, and his life had not come crashing down around his ears. He had faced bitter dissappointment and a rough slap in the face that his vengeance could not yet be completed. But yet he hadn't fallen to his knees, thick in dread and confusion, as Marik had.

Bakura was still raring to go, and was willingly to not only climb back on the bull, but take it by the horns and give it a few bucks to match its pace. And that was where they differed. Marik had taken the path of cowering beneath the scarlet blanket, and ignoring the calls and jeers, for in his sheltered state he was safe. If Bakura was busy distracting the bull, then Marik need not dirty his hands any farther.

Marik was certainly not proud of what he had become.

But as much as he detested it, and rejected it, it was still there. A lingering cloud he could not push through, but could only sit and watch as it obstinantly blotted the sun from his world, fixating thim in this cold, blackened lifestyle that he so despised.

Tilting his head, Marik took a step forward, that black cloud still shrouding him from existence, still causing his brain to malfunction with its cruel, surrounding air, suffocating and pressing around him on all sides. He felt almost sticky with the pressure.

Then he realized it was sweat when the knife in his fingers began to slip. Swallowing sharply, Marik quickly tightened his fingers about the handle once more, plastic heating against his flesh as the palm of his hand kept it covered fully, clutching desperately at it. He couldn't lose it. Couldn't drop it. Bakura would awaken, and he would never get another chance.

Another step.

Another drop of sweat gathering among the masses.

Another thought pervading his mind of how Bakura could not leave. Of how he could not be alone. Not in this state. Not after all of this.

Yet another step.

Yet another few drops dribbling cooly down his back, slicking through the scars while leaving salty trails of pain rivuleting down his scarred flesh. His muscles twitched and undulated beneath his shirt, and he felt the fabric clinging achingly to the skin.

A grimace joined the progression.

Step.

Drop.

Wince.

A repetitve dance he knew every tune to, until he reached the bed, and suddenly the tempo changed. He felt his arm rising up, eyes wide and crazed as the sleeping figure before him began to rouse itself. Bakura's eyes were fluttering open, his mouth slightly open in confusion.

He'd grown rusty, living in such peacefulness with Marik. The once great thief had grown careless and had made a few simple mistakes of not being on his toes. And Marik could only reflect that it was what had caused the thief's death.

Arm thrusting down, Marik let out a terrified gurgle before the knife was puncturing flesh, slipping through a thick vein. Blood splurted free, and Marik felt something like shock rip through him as his body fumbled forward, following through with the fatal motion.

His hand quickly released the knife, watching as Bakura's body flailed, pupils shrinking as blood spewed from the gash. Marik felt a shudder wrack his body, before the vapidness was returning, and his mind was to busy turning the thought of how gorgeous Bakura's blood looked flying free from his flesh - a wondrous, deep scarlet that soon splattered the walls and blanket, dying it a delicious red.

Marik found himself feeling almost dissappointed as the blood slowed, and turned into small shuddering pulses, nothing like the fountai he'd first been rewarded with. And the longer he watched, the smaller the trickle became, and the feeling kept returning. He wanted more. Wanted more of Bakura's blood.

With a starling flash, Marik's mind roused forth the earlier memories - _It's Valentines Day. I want a heart._ Blinking, Marik rose, clambering onto the sticky bed covers. He could feel his fingers swimming in the oozing elixer, watching as it swarmed up around his flesh, sinking it in the glorious bath.

Licking his lips, Marik reached a hand up, ignoring the distant look in Bakura's eyes as he extracted his knife. A little fascination sparked within his core as a little spew of blood followed his knife, but it wasn't long in lasting, and gave no satisfaction he could truly revel in. He still needed more.

The knife soon lay flat against Bakura's collarbone, and Marik trailed the blade slowly along, slithering it against the flesh. With a few tapping prods, he slit the skin more and more, little cuts left speckling Bakura's bare torso as Marik reveled in this action.

He hadn't felt this alive in a long time. The dark cloud that always hid him away seemed to be slowly lifting, replaced with a hazy red mist that filled him with a pounding need for more and more - he wanted to fuel this new atmosphere, to fully envelop himself in such a pleasurable activity and haven for his mind.

So he took the next step.

Bracing himself, he punctured Bakura's chest, dipping the knife in. Bones blocked his way, and he gave an annoyed grunt, but allowed himself to continue. He needed to do this. If he didn't the redness would leave him, and he couldn't deal with the loss of such a lovely color settling around him. Couldn't go back to the blackness that had once swarmed among his thoughts, collecting and growing and mutating into something so horrid Marik couldn't even think straight any more.

He couldn't.

And just like Bakura, he wouldn't.

Giving a sharp twist of the wrist, he dragged the knife along, edges ripping at flesh, pushing it open in a gruesom display. As Marik cut straight down to the hips, he watched as the skin severed, opening up. The edges were uneven, just like the teeth of the knife. Blood was rippling around the corners, rolling down the white flesh and staining Marik's new favorite color.

He felt alive! So alive!

Ducking down, he tossed the knife to the side, allowing it to sink within blood, disappearing within sight, just as Marik's hands soon did beneath the flaps of flesh framing his arms. Fingers grasping and tearing within, he felt wet coils greating him, their slimy exteriors greeting him joyously. They were partrons to the Red Haze as well, and Marik immediately felt as if they were his kin - not the rest of the Ishtar clan. No, these delicious, sloppy organs that he slowly drew from within Bakura's punctured body were his real family.

He could bury his face in them for comfort, and so he did, face pressing into their comforting, odd texture. It felt wondrous against his skin, offering more comfort then Bakura's little thigh squeazes had ever offered. More then any hug Isis had ever attempted. He felt as if these little coils felt genuine affection, for they knew of the Red Haze, and could relish in it as he had done.

But they weren't his main task, and he soon set them down. They formed a little pile beside Bakura's prone body - a small meaty mountain that had a side trail disappearing within the cavernous body beside them.

Slipping his hand inside once more, Marik felt his fingers tightening around his true prize. Teeth gritting, he felt veins snapping, giving way to his force as he slowly drew the warm muscle free. Bakura's body shifted beneath him, and for a moment he froze, hand still trapped within the warm confines of the heated flesh.

Peering down, he felt himself relaxing once more, hand continuing to pull the heart free from Bakura's cavernous chest. All that had happened was that Marik's extensive tugger and jerking had jostled the deceased Spirit.

Giving a sharp squeeze, Marik peeled the heart free finally, glorious red gushing free of the artery to roll down his arm. With a sudden spark, he thought of how pleased the Red Haze would be if he ate it. How the Red Haze would stay, with a part of it always in Marik.

Only a small bit of hesitancy followed, before Marik's tongue was greedily lapping at the heart, teeth puncturing the flesh about it and sinking into the muscle. He felt his throat convulse as he swallowed the gritted chunks, blood helping to wash it down with a rush of red.

Everything was red.

But everything was perfect when it was red.

"A Happy Valentines," Marik mumbled distractedly, slipping down fully onto the bed, shoulder pressed against the pillow as he stared into Bakura's vacant stare. As he peered at the deceased body, he slipped forward, lips latching around Bakura's, moving softly against the soft, cold lips. He felt them warming as his tongue stroked them, fingers reaching up to roll along Bakura's sharpened features. His body aligned with the one he had destroyed, his body rubbing and writhing against the corpse.

With a sharp noise, he tangled his hands in Bakura's hair, rushing his hands through it time and time again. Each stroke brought forth a violent red streak, and each soft, sensitive trailing of Marik's tongue across the snowy skin only brought about more red, coating Bakura in the color that had saved Marik.

He'd cover both of them in it, and they'd boy be happy. Both boy joyful. Marik knew. The Red Haze would fix everything - fix Bakura - if only there could be enough delivered. Bakura would have to show the Red Haze all the affection that Marik had shown it himself.

With a startling, gutral laugh, Marik pressed his lips to Bakura's neck, whispering encouragement that he couldn't have said earlier. The black, oppressing cloud of shadows had stopped him from saying such words, and had held him back, clawing at his body and suspending him in a state of nothingness. He supposed that was where Bakura was now.

But that would all be over soon.

As soon as the Red Haze set them free.

**It's very hard to write things like this when Pandora seems fixated on playing Backstreet Boys, NSync, and all my favorite 80's pop.**

**But then again Piece of Me came on at a wondrous time. Taken out of concept it worked rather nicely.**

**But other then that...**

**Pandora you never cater to my needs...****bitch.**


End file.
